


I Choose You

by melanoradrood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Angst, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Forced Marriage, Inappropriate Use of Malfoy Signet Ring, Inspired by a Movie, Smut, Smut is in Part 4, Sort Of, Voldemort Does Not Return, there that's better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27363571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanoradrood/pseuds/melanoradrood
Summary: At the end of Fifth Year, Hermione finds out why It is that none have approached her with a Marital Contract, the only way she can remain in the Wizarding World after Graduation. It has already been signed by her Magical Guardian, someone she has never met - she is to be the next Lady Malfoy.A year and a half later, she is a married witch, but still, Draco Malfoy, who had chosen her above all others, had not spoken of it. In fact, they barely spoke at all. And when trouble heads their way, Hermione means to change that. Really, she means to change a lot of things.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 143
Kudos: 579





	1. Where Power Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Everyone, and welcome to my insanity. I've been casually lurking in the corner of the Dramione / HP Fandom for like EVER, but I'm a busy person, and just kind of... hung out over there, awkwardly reading fanfiction, leaving random comments. I even started a few things, inspired by lovely artwork produced for this pairing, but still, I resisted...
> 
> And then I had background Netflix on, realized that a conversation between two characters was legitimately Hermione and Draco, and said WELP THERE GOES THAT.
> 
> The first Part was my attempt to NOT write an epic novel, because that would never be finished, so instead I just kind of shoved the background information in throughout. The second Part was where all of the questions sort of got answered. And well, the third Part is where the smut happens.
> 
> I'll spoil what movie it is that inspired this at the bottom. Please note that some of the conversation is directly stolen, but it was PERFECT. So, yes. Enjoy.

“Hermione, I need to speak to my friends,” Draco said, his eyes not even looking at her. 

He had interrupted her explanation about the true nature of Merfolk and the way their songs worked in soundwaves underneath the water, and she took a deep breath, reminding herself to not snap at him for it, before finally looking up. 

“That’s fine, I can hear what you have to say-”

“Alone.”

Hermione had been unaware, until that point, of his return to the Castle. She had thought he was gone for the entire weekend, on whatever business he had for his father. She tried not to ask questions, tried to understand all of the intricacies that came with being a Pureblood heir, but something was amiss with her husband and his father.

Dismissing her while she ate dinner with Theo and Blaise? Something was certainly the matter.

“Of course,” she said with a false smile, and she knew from the look in Theo’s eyes that he was aware of it. “I have some studying to do, as it is - after they have left, be certain to eat yourself.”

Her hand reached out to touch his lower arm, one of the few bits of kindness between them, and she could feel how tense he was, his jaw set, muscles tight, a sure sign that something was wrong.

She left their small welcoming room, which served a variety of tasks from eating to sitting before the fire to studying, and turned to walk towards what should have been their studying area, but was instead his room - they had not shared a bed since the bonding ceremony, and Hermione was unsure as to when that would change. Rather than walking too far away, however, she stayed just in the shadows, watching and waiting. It took a few moments before she heard Draco speak.

“We swore to our fathers, that we would do whatever it takes to keep our legacy alive. To do whatever it takes to keep tradition alive. We’re going to have to break those vows.”

“What does he want? Why now? Does it have to do with Hermione?”

“Blaise, she can’t know about this-”

“Draco, you have to tell her-”

Whatever Theodore had been saying was cut off, as if by magic. A silencing privacy spell. He was shutting her out, keeping their conversation quiet. It was worrying - they both had their secrets, had their separate lives, him the Slytherin Prince, her a studious little Gryffindor, but at no point during their four month marriage, nor the year long betrothal before that, had Hermione truly been so worried.

When she had arrived at Hogwarts over six years earlier, everything had been like a dream, like it was truly magic. There were so many unimaginable wonders, so much to study, so much to explore. It had felt as though nothing could stop her, nothing could hold her back, not even the fact that she was not born into this world. Outsider she may be, but Hermione knew she would find her place in it.

It was not until the start of Fourth year, when the other girls in her year began worrying about boys, that she realized that a place may have already been chosen for her. Marriages between Purebloods had been ended after the Great Wizarding War, an effort to keep any issues of blood purity arising again, but in exchange, Muggleborns were no longer able to keep to those like them - if you wanted to remain in the Wizarding World, you joined a Wizarding family.

Suddenly, exams had no longer been the top of her concerns. She had always known that she was smart, the brightest witch some even said, but there was no way to study her way into a Wizarding family. She had had to look around, take stock, and as betrothal pieces began falling onto the wrists of so many girls around her… 

She was forgotten. She was ignored. 

It was at the end of Fifth Year that she found out why - The Malfoys were the best, and if their son was unable, by law, to marry a Pureblood girl, then they would have the best of the rest. And if a Muggleborn was the brightest witch of the age…

The contract was already signed before she had been told, the announcement given to both herself and Professor McGonnegal at the same time, a representative from the ministry congratulating her on the promising match. Of course, why would her Magical Guardian, someone she had never even met, ask for her opinion? Why wouldn’t Hermione want to marry into the richest family the Wizarding World had ever seen?

One look from her favorite Professor told her her choices - accept the bracelet, or be obliviated here and now.

She had worn a bracelet with Green stones and a letter M charm ever since. Hermione Granger was a betrothed woman.

She had not returned to her parent’s home. Instead, she was collected at King’s Cross by a Witch in a very traditional set of robes, and whisked away to the country to begin her “education”. She had been met by one Narcissa Malfoy, who looked her over then gave a nod, confirming that she would do. What had followed was what Hermione could only assume to be hell.

She was taught everything from how to arrange flowers to how to plan a meal to how to perform beauty charms to how to read the stars so as to best have a perfect living child. There was family magic mixed throughout, one of her tutors whispering that it was both Black and Malfoy magic, and at the end of the summer, when she took tea with Mrs Malfoy, she had passed inspection.

It was the most rigorous bit of studying she had ever done, and she loathed the fact that she had somehow felt challenged by it. Perhaps it was the fact that Hermione had never considered any of it to be of any use, but as she sat, sipping carefully from a cup of tea with one ankle crossed behind the other, she felt oddly proud.

It was there that Hermione had been told more of what was to become of her.

Draco wanted the best - only the best. The boy that had antagonized her, teased her, tortured her all during the first three years of her education, that had ignored her for the past two, wanted her. Mr Malfoy had secured the contract. Mrs Malfoy had provided the education. After all, if Hermione was in fact to wed the wealthiest Wizard from the greatest Wizarding family, she had to fit the part.

She had passed the test, and at the end of the summer, she was sent back to Hogwarts, with a new set of rooms befitting her station. She had also been informed of her coming wedding - the following July, a month after Draco became of age. She would spend her seventh year a married woman.

Whispers had become a cloak around her, rumors spreading as she walked the halls of Hogwarts in her sixth year. She had never necessarily had a number of friends, perhaps instead always a number of acquaintances, but now, no one spoke to her. She was utterly alone.

In July, they had wed, their souls bonding to become one, until death parted them. She had felt her magic flow, flow from within her into him, and his magic into her. 

He had been unable to take his eyes off her the entire ceremony, but once it was over and they had been left in the same room, his lips had brushed her hand, the same hand that wore his bracelet, that held his mark, that showed the world she was his, and then he had departed.

It had been quiet conversations for a few weeks, a few words here and there, with no one else ever showing up. They were in his wing of the house, he had informed her, and the food and cleaning were both provided by house elves, who only appeared when she was not there. She saw no other, spoke to no other, until a full month had passed, and his mother had appeared.

The witch had looked her over once, then sighed before pulling Hermione from the seclusion she had been in, instead taking Hermione out into the brightness of the gardens to enjoy a cup of tea. It was over that cup that they had had a frank conversation, about what was expected of her, of what was to come.

Draco had the pressure of the world on him, and Hermione had been his dream - now that it was a reality, he was crushing under that pressure, unable to move forward with it. It was not her fault, of course not, but Narcissa would not allow her son to “ruin all of her work”.

When she had returned to her rooms later that evening, Hermione had walked in with a plan. Once they were back at school, she would not allow him to separate from her. It would start simply for now - she would invite him to study with her, to work on revisions together. Study partners at first, and eventually perhaps friends. She could befriend his friends, and then perhaps one night…

They were bonded for life, and while they had barely talked in the past month of their marriage, Hermione had never failed at anything in her life. Staying in the Wizarding World meant marrying a Pureblood, or someone with a family. If she wanted to effect change within this world, she had to marry someone with the funds, with the status, with the prestige. She had done all of that without having to do anything at all.

And now, to move forward, she had duties to perform. She had to become something, someone that her husband could rely on. She had to follow the actions of the Matriarch, had to learn from her how to command and lead without seeming to do much at all. If she wanted her voice to be heard, she had to make it heard, and being the loudest voice in the room was not the answer. She had married into a family of snakes, lived in a world where the snakes were ever present and moving, and if she wanted to succeed, she had to become one like them.

Every morning, for the last month she stayed within Malfoy Manor, Hermione took breakfast and then a walk with Narcissa Malfoy. That decision had been met with surprise, that she had simply done so, but her husband had, at no point in time, told her she could not. The two women spoke of nothing at first, about the gardens, about the menagerie of animals on the property, about the teas and the parties… from there, they spoke of the leylines the Manor was built upon, about the Wards that strengthened the protection within, and finally, the spoke about what it meant to be Lady Malfoy, to whisper into another’s ear, to hold true power privately.

And each day, when they departed from one another, Hermione received a warm smile, a true smile - she had taken the summer of studies and had passed with perfection, but now, Hermione was following in the woman’s footsteps.

In the afternoons, Hermione found Draco, and brought with her all of her books and studying tools. If he was in the stables, she joined him. The library, she joined him. Even if he was flying out around the grounds, she found a place to sit, to watch and wait. Eventually, his afternoons aligned with hers, and they read together, passed questions back and forth. She knew he was intelligent, but they could easily spend hours discussing the same runes. 

And with time, she learned more of Pureblood culture, she learned about the very magic itself that was within these stones, she learned of family secrets, of how blood magic was not really a taboo but something more natural - she learned the secrets that had been kept from her until now.

He never touched her, however. It was always her, each night, a soft touch to his arm, to the back of his hand, to his shoulder. He never went further, but she wondered. Every time, she wondered why he wanted her as his wife.

She was never brave enough to ask him.

And now, as she stood with her back against a wall, she knew tonight was the night she had to ask. Over time, they had become friends, had begun eating meals together, studying together, even sometimes falling asleep on the couch together… he still never touched her, but she was his wife, and it was time for her to begin asserting some of the influence that she, as Mrs Malfoy, rightfully should have.

It would all start with finding out what secrets he was keeping from her. What secret vow he had made with his friends… and what it had to do with her.

She waited until much later to make her move.

Blaise and Theo had left nearly two hours earlier, and after hearing her husband finish in the shower, Hermione had prepared herself, prepared herself mentally, prepared herself physically. Wearing the softest nightgown that had been part of her wedding presents from her mother-in-law, and wrapped in the most regal nightrobe, she had taken time to brush out her hair, whispering the charms into it that she had been instructed on hour after hour, day after day. Each curl lay perfectly on her shoulders, and when she looked in the mirror, Hermione had taken a deep breath, seeing for the first time what it was that she thought Mrs Malfoy could see.

She looked like a witch. A witch in her bedclothes, yes, but a powerful witch. A strong witch that was the head of an influential and commanding Pureblood family. She looked like the bracelet, wrapped around her wrist, truly belonged. 

Never before had Hermione entered his room - she had, of course, knocked a number of times, but he had never invited her within, and she had never pressed it. Now, however, she opened it and strolled in, closing the door behind herself, although there was no real need. When she turned back towards him, he had risen from where he was before the fire, approaching, giving excuses.

“I’m sorry if I was rude earlier, but I-”

“I know you have no need for my counsel.” She would not allow him to speak, would not allow whatever awkward pleasantries he would offer her. She had no need for them. No, in this moment, she needed only truths. He had held onto his secrets long enough. And to gain his truth, to gain his trust… she had to give her own. “It’s true, I have seen very little of your world. However, a young witch in my current position is afforded a great deal of time to read, to form distinct opinions, and…”

She took a deep breath, pausing for a moment. She did not know for certain what it was that Draco had been talking about, did not know for certain what it was that happened behind closed doors… but while living in Malfoy Manor, there had been a great many closed doors, a great many secrets. Narcissa Malfoy had welcomed her, had trained her. Draco Malfoy had apparently wanted her above all others, even if he did not say so himself.

But Lucius… Lucius Malfoy looked at her as though he did not know what to do with her, but he simply did not like her. Hermione was more than aware that, whatever was happening behind closed doors, it was likely something she would not approve of. Something Dark. Something that was similar to his time with the Dark Lord.

And, it sounded as though her husband did not agree with the man. It sounded as though her husband would not stand for whatever Lord Malfoy was planning. It was an easy decision to make, where her loyalty would lie.

“... to draw her own conclusions about the nature of power.”

Somehow, as she spoke, Hermione had been approaching him, her husband, until she was just a breath away. He was looking right at her, directly into her eyes for once, not as though he was sizing her up, nor as though he was taking her in like a piece of art. No, he was staring into her very soul, as though he could see her for the first time… or as though he had been waiting a long time to see whatever it was he saw now. As though he had been waiting for this very moment, that she would come to him, that she would speak, and make herself known.

The summer after fifth year had taught her to hold her tongue, to carefully place her words, for fear that if she did not curb herself, she would lose her place in this world. No more, no longer, would anything hold her back.

He said nothing for a long moment, then gave a tiny nod. “Alright.”

“Power is making decisions.” She knew that well enough - Lucius was head of the family, and should have held all of the power - but Draco had chosen her, Narcissa had approved of it, and whatever role Lucius had played, it did not matter - the decision was made, and she was now a Malfoy. It was how things happened at the ministry, how things were changed within the Wizengamot. 

“Power is not allowing yourself to be buffeted on the tides of history.” She could allow decisions to be made for her - and they had been, for a time, but she would allow herself to be pushed aside no longer. If Draco was breaking a vow… “Instead, it is choosing a boat, climbing aboard, and hoisting the sail.”

In truth, Hermione did not know whether or not Draco would understand the metaphor, but the look on his face told her that he at least understood her conviction. His jaw had dropped, just enough to show that she had caught him off guard, but that look in his eyes remained - he was seeing her, seeing Hermione Granger, the Muggleborn witch that he, the Slytherin Prince, had chosen as his bride. She could only hope that he approved of what he saw.

After all, he had been the one to choose her. And now, she had a choice to make as well.

“I choose you. And whatever course you are charting, I choose you. My husband.”

She had never said those words before, never to him at least, and never truly to herself… but that’s what he was. Draco Malfoy was her husband. She could feel his magic, feel their magic all around them, and she could feel herself shaking, shaking from anticipation, from worry, from nerves…

But she was making a choice, here and now. He had chosen her, of all the other girls within the school. It was not as though he would have been thrown out of the wizarding world - he could have waited a few years, seen what happened, perhaps waited to marry a Pureblood once the Wizengamot changed course again, but no, he had chosen her. And she was choosing him. 

No more secrets. No more half-truths. She was coming out with it all. She didn’t love him, but Hermione could easily add the tag ‘yet’. She did not love him  _ yet _ , but that did not mean she did not want to. He was handsome, he could be kind, he was brilliant, and he had chosen her above all others. Clearly, he had seen something in her that he could not allow to leave the Wizarding World. And so, she was choosing him in return.

Him. Her husband.

It seemed to take an eternity, and then Draco was taking three long steps to her, his hands never touching, never reaching out to her, but then he was over her, bending down, staring straight into her eyes. She knew he was tall, knew it from their bonding ceremony, when he had had to bend down to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, the only kiss she had ever truly felt before, but somehow, he seemed to be looming. It should bother her, frighten her that he was so much taller, but instead, she just felt safe as she looked up at him.

He didn’t move, but she could feel his breath, feel it brushing over her eyelashes, across her lips. She could smell the firewhiskey he must have been sipping, could smell him, and she knew that smell. She remembered all too well the scent of her Amortentia, having brewed it the previous year. Draco… her Draco…

Spearmint, as though he used toothpaste, even though she was quite certain he cleaned his teeth the magical way. Parchment, likely all of the books that they spent hours pouring through. Firewhisky, but that could match any boy she was quite certain. And then… something else… something she suspected he put in his hair, to make it so soft. It was spicy, like cinnamon or cloves, and always smelled strongest after his showers.

She had chosen him, and as she stared into his eyes, she could tell that he was only just starting to realize it.

Her fingers brushed his forearm, the same place she had touched earlier, and she could feel the tension once more, but then she felt something else, something foreign. His other hand, it was hovering over her skin, just barely, but she could feel the ripple against her night robe as his fingers brushed her waist, as though he wanted to draw her to him, but would not allow himself.

She was a married woman, and had never been kissed. She aimed to change that now. Hermione Granger was a woman that said what she meant, and was not afraid to back it up. She had told him she was choosing him. It was time to show him.

Her lips pressed onto his, solid and firm. There would be no question in this - she was kissing him, kissing her husband, and her hand on his arm slid up, holding him closer. Free hand moving from between them to rest on his chest, she stayed there, waiting for another breath until she could finally feel it, his hand curling around her waist, fingers splaying out on her lower back.

They held, locked in that moment, neither moving to deepen it, until finally she had to pull away for air. Just a quick gasp, and then she was ready for another - but he had already pulled back, just enough she could no longer reach him, and she let it out, a soft moan escaping her. The hand on his chest pulled away, touching her lips - it was her first kiss, her first real kiss, and now her lips were tingling, as though magic itself had sprinkled sunlight on them for their actions.

Taking a step back, she smiled softly to herself, eyes darting off, away from him. She had done it, had kissed him, and he…. Her eyes flicked back to him, her husband, and he was still just standing there, watching her.

“Good night,” she murmured, mission completed. It would likely be a lot to think about - were Hermione in his position, she would at least need a good night’s rest to form some sort of response. She had chosen him, however. Whatever was coming, she wanted to know, wanted to face it together. He was her husband, and she was bound to him. She was choosing him, above all else.

“Good night,” he whispered in response, still frozen in place.

Turning towards the door, she took the few steps, trying to remember to breathe, and opened it, ready to leave, to walk away and let him process what had just happened. She expected at least 24 hours before he gave a response, if not longer. 

A smile curled over her lips as she resisted the urge to look back at him. The door shut, and then she paused, hand returning to her lips, touching them softly. Oh yes, she had chosen wisely. The next move was all his. And then, they would go from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love it? Hate it? Did you recognize the movie? It's Outlaw King, on Netflix. Idk why, but I've watched that movie as background noise a few thousand times already. Awkward historical romance with lots of long looks and pining? Heck yeah! But then also the other stuff.
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://melanoradrood.tumblr.com), except for when you can't, because I disappear at random. Because, you know, I got two kids and a lot of anxiety, and scheduling time to write is hard, man.
> 
> Part 2 will probably be up as soon as I've finished writing Part 3. It's already written, but yeah. Or by Friday. Whichever comes first.
> 
> An additional note - this was not beta'd, beyond someone from tumblr taking a quick glance at it - if anyone would like to come take a poke at my google doc and tell me what's garbage and what's not clear, like I said, it has been two years since I've published anything, really two and a half, so if you want to take a prod at it, grab me on tumblr and I'll invite you to go the google doc.


	2. The Vow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few questions are answered, and Hermione becomes closer to Draco...

When Draco had come to her three days later, telling her he needed her help, she had not known what to expect. In truth, Hermione had assumed that within a day of their previous talk, he would be coming to her and banging down her door, ready to either confess the truth of his father or to finally kiss her once more. She had dreamed of his kiss that night, dreamed of his hands touching her again, of his hands sliding lower. 

But the next morning, he had said nothing, his jaw hard and his eyes drawn together, as though deep in thought. It was the same the next day, and the day after that, continuing on until now.

She had risen immediately from her books and studies without a second thought, walking towards him, ready to reach a hand out, but he shook his head and stepped around her, towards the large wardrobe that his mother had filled after their wedding. “We’re meeting others. And it’s important.”

It took a moment for Hermione to look him over, to take in his current attire. Draco always looked well dressed and refined, unless of course he had just come from Quidditch practice, but this was formal enough for dinner at the Manor, certainly too much for Hogwarts on a Wednesday. She had not even changed from her uniform, only having kicked off her shoes. Something important… she followed up, looking at a few items, trying to channel Narcissa Malfoy. Something dark, perhaps, and warm given the late hour. The castle was sure to be cold.

She felt it suddenly, his hand at her waist again, and his chest pressing to her back. Hermione froze, feeling the sturdiness of him, something so very real after their kiss a few days prior, and it took her a moment to realize that he was reaching around her into the closet, selecting one of the dresses that had been reserved in case they were to visit somewhere that they would need to be seen, straight from school. He even pulled one of her thicker cloaks out as well.

“Come quickly, and dress in boots. We have a long walk.”

Hermione wasted no time, pulling on the knee length long sleeved dress, quickly using a charm to draw the strings in the back to make it slightly more form fitting. Her school tights stayed on, but she traded for boots, and used another charm to pull her hair back into a low chignon. There was no telling what he would need her help with, so she did not want a strand in her eyes. Besides, given the teases in their younger years, she suspected he hated her hair when it was down and wild. 

Stepping out from her room, she saw her husband standing before the fireplace, shoulders tense, even more so than the other night. Whatever was going on, whatever stress had been placed upon him, it was weighing heavily now, as though he were on the verge of collapse. Still, his teeth were clenched and his jaw set, a sign that he had made a decision, whatever it was. Hermione just had to hope that she could stomach it, live with it. They were bonded for life, after all, and he was her only way of staying in the magical world. Whatever it was that was happening… she would handle it, one step at a time.

After all, she had already climbed aboard with him, and hoisted the sails. It looked as though tonight, they would be headed out to sea, together. She had to be grateful that, after her little speech the other night, he was not leaving her behind.

Approaching him, Hermione cleared her throat slightly, catching his attention. He turned and gave her a look over, but something softened in him as she stopped before him, waiting for approval. There was some sadness there as well, and then he gave a nod, turning and offering his arm to her. She took it, and let him lead her out into the hall.

It was dark and quiet as per normal, given that they were the only couple to start the school year wed. Most waited until Christmas Hols if not Easter itself, although many were wed on Graduation Day. It meant that the set of suites for wedded couples were all otherwise empty. It meant they had no surprises as he took her through the halls, down hidden staircases, and out a private entrance that was to allow them privacy.

The walk was quiet, and he did not let go of her arm as they approached the town of Hogsmeade. They had yet to visit as a married couple, and she wondered why tonight of all nights? He had said he needed her help, but most places were closed, the only light on besides the homes belonging to The Three Broomsticks. It was so late, though? As they approached, she could hear noise coming from within, as though a party was occurring. 

“Come, we’re likely the last ones here,” he said, opening the door.

She didn’t have a chance to ask who they were meeting - it was obvious the second that the door was open just who in all was here.

The room was full, every seventh year boy standing about, Pureblood, Halfbood, and Muggleborns. The tables and chairs had all been pulled out of the way and set against the wall, making it so that it looked to be an open forum. Even still, houses were lingering together - Gryffindors crossing their arms in the center of the room, Hufflepuffs close by trying to joke but looking wary, Ravenclaws lingering in the back nearly silent, and Slytherins lingering by the bar, drinking and looking far too tense.

As the door shut behind them, every boy turned to look at them. More than a few chins lifted, but then they all looked at her in particular, confusion a little clear. It took a moment for Hermione to realize what was going on, and then it hit her. There was a meeting, a meeting put together by Draco, and likely the other Slytherins. Whatever was going on with his father…

“There is much I have to tell you,” Draco said softly, and Hermione turned to look up at her husband as he lowered the hood to first his cloak, and then hers. “You said that you chose me, that you are with me. This is where it begins. This is where we take back power.”

She gave a nod, swallowing down a thousand words, and then Draco stepped closer to her. For a brief moment, she feared that he might kiss her again, and while she longed for the touch of his lips on hers once more, she did not want to share it with the others in this room. Instead, however, his lips brushed against her forehead, and she melted at that - the safety and warmth that flooded her relaxed her immensely.

Pulling away, he took her hand and led her towards the bar, helping her into a single chair that sat there. He grabbed one of the glasses sitting beside a bottle of firewhiskey and poured himself a shot before offering it to her. She shook her head, then looked at the room. A meeting, and she was the only female. She was here to bare witness, then. To see and to listen and to learn. An observer, to know what it was that Draco was attempting to do.

And then he led her into the room, through the throng to the bar, where a single chair sat. He helped her into it, and then turned to face the room. There were no other chairs, all of the normal tables pushed to the side, standing room only. She was here to simply bare witness, Hermione realized. Not to offer her voice. Not yet, at least.

“What is it, Malfoy? You call us here saying it’s life or death, we show up, and then you wanna be all cryptic? Bloody Slytherins, always-”

“Purebloods are trying to bring back You-Know-Who, or at least his thinking.” Blaise cut Ronald Weasley, a Gryffindor, off in his words as he spoke out, always one to be a little blunt. “And we mean to stop them. Stop all of them. Send the assholes to Azkaban where they belong.”

There was silence for a half second, and then shouts erupted. There were calls as to what that meant, calls to ask if someone was a death eater, and more than one Muggleborn asked if that was even possible. Draco took a step back towards her, letting out a sigh, then shook his head.

“Not what I had in mind,” he muttered to her, and she smiled a little to herself - despite the shock that ran through her.

You-Know-Who. Voldemort. The Dark Lord that had left a scar on Harry Potter’s forehead, that had destroyed a generation, that had caused the Great Wizarding War that left it in shambles… It was because of him, and because of Wizards like Draco’s father, that the Bonding Laws had been put into place. 

The wheels all started turning. If Purebloods wanted to bring back You-Know-Who, then that meant they would overturn the Bonding Laws. If Lucius was part of it, and Draco intended to rebel against him… 

“But we’re bonded for life,” Hermione whispered, and fear ran through her as she reached out, grabbing Draco’s hand. He had his wand in it, surely about to cast a silencing spell, but he stopped, turning to look at her slowly. She could see it in his eyes - what she feared was true.

“We’re bonded for life… until one of us dies.”

It took a moment for it to really click, and then Hermione sat there, in shock, as it hit her. Her fear had always been that she would never find someone to wed her, that she would be sent away, Obliviated, turned out of the Wizarding World. There was only one way to end a bonding, and that was through death. And Lucius Malfoy, if he was successful…

Everything was a whirl around her, first silence, then voices, and then it was all a hum around her. She knew that Lucius was not fond of her, but he had been the one to procure the betrothal. If he had wanted Draco to remain unattached until after the Dark Lord’s return, then why had he moved forward with the betrothal? They had been the one to enact it! Draco did not need to marry straight out of Hogwarts, and could have waited a few years. To actually want her dead…

“Your recklessness will get us all killed,” Terry Boot, a halfblood Ravenclaw, called out as she started to catch up. “They can’t bring him back from the dead. The laws are what they are. In a few generations, we’ll all be half bloods, and there will be no more Sacred 28, no more Blood Politics.”

“It’s not that simple,” Theo snapped, his cool demeanor gone. She wasn’t sure what had happened while she checked out, but his glasses were half askew on his face, and his hair was falling down into his eyes. “I know you hold a lot against Draco because of his father, but he’s married - married to a Muggleborn. If she can look past that, can’t you?”

“But we have peace!” Harry Potter snapped. “I lost my parents to the War, and I don’t mean to lose anyone else. We have peace. Why should we fight now? They can’t bring him back. You can’t bring back the dead.”

“Just because he’s dead, doesn’t mean the beliefs are gone,” a normally quiet Greg Goyle said. “A deal was struck at the end of the war - the end of blood purity - and it worked. It brought peace. And now… now that things are forgotten, now that they have to uphold it, they’re going to turn. And they won’t fail again.”

“Our fathers made a bargain for us. They made a decision for us. The end of blood politics for their freedom. Freedom they never should have had.” 

Draco had spoken, and his hand pulled from hers as he did so.

“They made a bargain, and they’re not going to follow through. Already, my father is telling me that I must act. That it is time to be a Malfoy, time to be Sacred 28. But, I’m already bonded. Bonded and wed to my Muggleborn wife. What do you think that means?”

There was a silence for a long moment as it processed, before Cormac McLaggen, who had barely spoken before, finally stepped forward.

“And what does that have to do with us, Malfoy? I mean, no offense, Hermione, but what does it matter to the rest of us if your father wants your wife dead?”

Wands were suddenly drawn - Draco’s on McLaggen, then Weasley on Draco, then Theo on Weasley, and so on, the room suddenly picking one of three sides - wands on a Slytherin, wands on a Gryffindor, or backing up from the chaos. 

It was Neville Longbottom, one of the few Purebloods not in Slytherin, that broke it up. Neville, who had been quiet, who had not drawn a wand, who had been watching Draco and Hermione the whole time. Neville, who spoke out to turn the tide.

“I never did nothing wrong. My mum and dad, they fought for the Light, but I’m held to the same laws. Can’t marry a Pureblood girl. Blood Purity matters nothing to me, of course. I never thought much of it. Kind of knew it would be my duty to marry a Muggleborn, to keep them in this world. Always thought it would be Hermione, until my Gran wrote back and told me that the Malfoys had already written a contract. And then I was partnered with Pansy in Herbology.”

The room was dead quiet - Neville never spoke up, and to hear him not only sounding as though he agreed with Draco, but to mention Pansy Parkinson…

Hermione tucked away the knowledge that Neville wanted to marry her, and that there had already been a claim, until later.

“I’ve kissed her. I bloody well know that that ruins her in society, to admit it, but if there was no bloody law, it would be my bracelet on her wrist. I never did anything wrong, and I would raise my children without blood purity, but I have to pay the price? Pay the price so Lucius Malfoy could stay out of Azkaban? It’s bloody ludicrous.”

There was another long moment of silence, before Justin Finch-Fletchy, a Muggleborn Hufflepuff, spoke up.

“Sarah Tanner. She’s a sixth year Muggleborn. I would marry her today, if she were of age… but then we would both be Obliviated. I could live without the magic, but how am I supposed to find her again if we’ve been Obliviated? It’s not fair that we have to marry someone with Old Wizarding Family blood. I’m a bloody Wizard. That should be enough.”

The silence in the room was tangible. The wands that had been drawn were all slowly put away, and then finally, Harry Potter, one of the few in the room that Hermione knew had a betrothal that he was happy with, spoke.

“Okay, fine, it’s time for change. I’m lucky, I know that. One of the lucky few. I can marry anyone. But at the end of the day, I don’t have a voice. The Potter seat is empty… and unless my Da comes back from the grave, it’s going to stay empty. The Wizengamot won’t hear of filling any of the empty seats with Halfbloods, but they’ll insist on ending Purebloods…”

“It’s because they don’t plan on giving up power,” Blaise said. He was one of the few that would be able to take his seat after graduation, one of the few that was Pureblood with a dead father. “It’s time for change.”

“And what would you have us do?” Neville Longbottom asked. “We can’t… we can’t just change the laws. We haven’t graduated yet. We’re just kids to them. We don’t have any power.”

“Power is making decisions. It’s choosing a boat, climbing aboard, and hoisting the sails.” Draco had spoken up again, and Hermione stared at him, hearing her own words coming from his lips. “So, we all climb aboard that boat together. All of us. If we do this, we do this as one.”

The silence in the room was palpable, and then Justin spoke.

“They’ll come for me, the day after graduation. It’s either marry someone with Magical blood, or they erase my memory. So, if we’re doing this… I kind of have a deadline.”

It took only a half second, and then Ernest MacMillan, one of the quieter Purebloods, stepped up and clapped a hand on Justin’s shoulder. Zacharias Smith joined him, and then gave Draco a nod. 

All around the room, Hermione could feel a shift. It was like reality set in - their future had been decided nearly twenty years ago by the actions of their parents and grandparents. It was time for them to control their own destiny. It was time for them to act.

The Hufflepuffs had all congregated around Justin, a clear sign that they would not let their Housemate be Obliviated. The Ravenclaws were all stone faced, but Hermione saw them glace at one another, each giving the other a nod. It was only the Gryffindors in question, but it was pretty clear Neville stood. There seemed to be an argument between them though, a silent one, before McLaggen finally gave a grunt, and Weasley kicked at Potter’s shoes, then gave a shrug.

“We’re with you, Malfoy,” Terry Boot said, speaking for the Ravenclaws.

“Yeah, so are we.” Zacharias Smith spoke for the Hufflepuffs. “Can’t let them take our boy here. It’s not right. It’s time for change.”

“Well, I think it’s obvious we’re with you,” Theo said, giving a roll of his eyes before turning to glance at the other Slytherins. “After all, it’s our asshole Fathers that are all going to Azkaban if we win. That alone is good enough for me.”

Everyone turned their eyes to the group of Gryffindors, where McLaggen was still glaring up at the ceiling, and this time when Weasley kicked at a person’s feet, it was towards him.

“Bloody hell, some brave lot you are,” Weasley snapped. “Of course we’re with you. Can’t have a bunch of Snakes and Puffs being braver than a Lion. Wouldn’t be right. It’s not natural.”

Malfoy gave them all a nod, then slowly looked towards Hermione. It felt as though a thousand words passed between them, but Hermione was not certain she heard any of them. There was a look in his eyes, however. A look that said they would speak soon.

“Well, boys, I would clear your calendar for the day after Graduation,” Theo said, a bit of swag to him as he approached the bar. He leaned against it, arms crossing over his chest, as he looked around. “Looks like we’re taking over the Ministry…”

“No.”

Draco turned away from her as he said the word, then turned to address the room. 

“Christmas Hols. We all board the train. We all go into London. We all go into the Ministry. The Wizengamot hears it’s last cases for the year, and then does not return to session until the Summer. I intend on us having a presence there. Every seat filled.”

“And what if we don’t want a seat?” Terry asked. “I have an older brother… He had a good Muggleborn friend that had to marry a Pureblood. He would be with me, if I asked.”

“Me too,” a voice called out, and then another.

“What about the previous years? We can’t be the only ones.”

“Yeah, Malfoy. There’s plenty that hate this law.”

Hermione did the math quickly in her head. There were a total of Fifty Seats in the Wizengamot, each belonging to the head of a Pureblood family. Over half of them sat empty, whether because they had simply died out, like the Gaunts, or because their heir was a halfblood, like the Potters. The Wizengamot had been formed in 1707, with no seats added since then. There were some families that lived in England, considered to be Pureblood, that did not even have a seat, as their families had come to England after the formation. It was a travesty, really. Overdue for change.

“Alright, so there’s some planning to be done, but if you know of anyone else with us…”

“There’s a lot to discuss here, a lot to plan,” Theo said, interrupting Draco slightly. “We know it’s not a fully formed process, but the fact is, we can’t wait. If we want to enact change, we have to act now. The average age of the Wizengamot is in the seventies, but-”

“Eighties,” Hermione said, interrupting Theo. It was the first time she had spoken all evening, and suddenly every eye was on her. “Eighty-seven, to be precise.”

The silence remained, and Draco stepped back towards her, reaching his hand out to her. She took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet, and she realized then that he was inviting her to speak, to be part of this.

And so, she spoke.

“We start by filling the empty seats. No longer will those that are not Pureblood be excluded from the Wizengamot. We write to those that we think would agree, those who could claim a seat. And then, we fill it. We end the Winter session halting the Marriage Law. It’s over half empty, and if we control it-”

“Then we win the vote,” Draco said, finishing for her.

She smiled up at him, then glanced at the rest of the room.

“From there, we remove every member that does not agree. We fill the empty seats with their heirs. No longer will we allow an older generation to decide for us. They ruined this world… we will fix it. And then, we add seats. We make certain that everyone is represented. Muggleborns no longer have a Guardian that does not know them. Instead of marrying into a family, they become adopted by them, passing on the Blood Magic. Families do not have to die out. And then…”

“And then we change the world,” Draco said.

There was a ripple through the room, and she could feel that everyone was with them. 

They were doing this. They were really doing this.

“When next we meet, I want a list of every empty seat and who can fill it,” Theo said, glancing around the room. “Look at your cousins, your siblings. If you don’t want the seat, find someone that does. We can’t have any empty when we move in December.”

There was a murmur, and then, glasses of Firewhiskey began leaving from the bar. Hermione turned, eyebrows raised as she watched Blaise directing bottles and glasses into the hands of every boy in the room. “Well, let’s drink on it!”

“No, we make a vow,” Longbottom said. “Like my parents did. When they joined the Order of the Phoenix… they made a vow, to stand together against You-Know-Who. So, we do the same. We make a vow to stand together.”

Hermione swallowed, then slowly withdrew her wand. 

“I can act as binder,” she said, glancing around. “But who makes the vow to who?”

The glance went around, but then Theo moved, grabbing Draco’s hand. “We make it to Draco. He’s the one moving against his father. He’s the one that could betray all of us, betray you. And if we turn on him… he’s the one with the most to lose. We make the vow to Draco.”

She could see her husband swallow, then give a nod. 

“Do you vow to stand beside me against our fathers?”

“Do you vow to end the Marriage Law?”

“Do you vow to keep this and all future meetings a secret, until our plans have been revealed?”

Theo, then Blaise, then all of the other Slytherins, followed by the Ravenclaws, the Hufflepuffs, and the Gryffindors… they all swore an Unbreakable Vow to her husband, that they were with him, that they would change this law.

She did not see her husband, however. Instead, she saw the future Lord Malfoy. She saw a man that was being sworn fealty to. She saw a man with all the wealth and prestige in the world, using it to make it a better place.

She knew, in that moment, that she could and would love him for the rest of her life.

As each finished their vows, they left the pub with a drink of Firewhiskey, until only Hermione, Theo, Draco, and Neville remained. The other Gryffindor was the last to make his Vow, and afterwards, he bowed his head towards Hermione.

“Lady Malfoy.”

Neville went to leave, but Draco reached out and stopped him. He then turned towards Hermione, reaching out his hand towards her, and she realized - oh. Of course. She would have to vow her silence as well. Licking her lips, she went to speak, but then felt Draco’s hand tighten on hers.

“My Wife...”

A shiver ran down her spine, and Hermione looked up at him slowly, eyes wide as it clicked that he was making a vow to her. Her breath caught in her lungs as he spoke, slowly and surely. Theo stood behind him, eyes wide, and Neville did the binding, but the only person she saw and heard was him, her husband.

“I vow to do everything in my power to keep you safe. I vow to give my life for yours, allowing no harm to befall you. I vow to keep my father from succeeding in his plans. And I vow to follow you, wherever you lead us.”

The ropes that bound them settled, and it felt much as it had when they bound their lives together, but somehow, this was serious. This was him making a vow to her, him giving something with nothing in return. 

All of this, everything that had happened tonight, it was because of her, it was for her. A shiver ran down her spine, and she watched as Draco released her hand, stepping away to shake Neville’s hand once more, and then Theo. The two other boys left together, leaving her with just her husband. 

He was staring at her, a few paces away, and then he approached, taking her hand once more. He led her back to the chair she had originally sat in, and helped her into it, raising her a few inches. He leaned against the bar for a moment, before finally speaking.

“We must be careful in the coming months. We have enemies on all sides now - both the Light and the Dark will not take kindly to us rising up against them.”

Hermione swallowed, then licked her lips, trying to resist the urge to play with her hands. It was something that her instructors had forced out of her, insisting that a Pureblood Lady always sat up tall, hands in their lap, sure and gentle and quiet.

“I am sorry… about my father. For bringing you into all of this. You could have wed Longbottom and been safe.”

He looked embarrassed, and she knew he was thinking about what Neville had said, that he wanted to put forward a contract for her, but she had already been claimed. She wanted to ask how long, how long he had been holding this torch for her, but refrained. Now was not the time, nor was it the place.

“I understand about your father. You have no control over him. But, I would not have wanted to wed Neville. I would not have chosen him.”

There was a long silence, and then she straightened up, taking a long breath as she tried to resume her previous position, pocketing her true nature away for now.

“And I know my duty. I know my place. I am sorry for speaking out-”

“Never apologize for that.”

He cut her off, a hand reaching out, touching her cheek. He seemed to freeze as fingertips touched warm skin, but she leaned into it, allowing his touch to caress her. Time seemed to disappear for a long moment, his fingers rubbing over her cheek, down her neck, and she moved closer.

She never reached for him, not really, but now, her hand slid around his lower body, drawing him closer. It took a long second, their eyes still locked with one another, and then her chest was touching his. She felt his hand slide into her hair, and then the charms she had used on her hair disappeared. She felt it falling down, flowing over her shoulder, and she let out a sigh of relief as he ran his hair through it one time, then moved his hand back to her face, fingers curling around her cheek.

“I know the Witch I married,” Draco said softly. “And I would like to see more of her.”

Her eyes lowered for a brief second, then rose again, and she thought in that moment he might kiss her again. She dreamed of it, craved it… 

He leaned forward, eyes closing, and then she felt his forehead touching hers. They seemed to simply be in that moment, simply exist, a husband and wife. She could feel it, feel his touch, his adoration. She didn’t know how to access it, whatever feelings he felt for her, but with time… with time, and patience, she could have every question she had answered.

But not tonight. Tonight, they were both raw, and tired. So instead, she let him hold her close, and she clung to him, being his strength, letting him draw on her. Tomorrow was another day, and the day after that began their future. The future could wait a few more days to figure itself out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](http://melanoradrood.tumblr.com), except for when you can't, because I disappear at random. Because, you know, I got two kids and a lot of anxiety, and scheduling time to write is hard, man.
> 
> Still looking for someone that can throw some love at the google doc. This was edited by me and only me with two kids laying on top of me, one of which snores. Please save me!
> 
> Part Three will be up when it's done, which should not take much longer - Monday the latest I SUSPECT but it may be a day or two later, as I do have plans for Monday night. I'll post on my tumblr if it will be later.
> 
> I also have another Dramione thing in the works, but that one will only go up once this is done, so no worries. I won't make you wait for too long.
> 
> Comments are lovely, and I respond to every single one! Thank you if you give a little love. I always like to hear what others think, what is clear and what isn't, how you hope things turn out - you never know, you may even influence the fic!


	3. We

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Eve of Battle...

Hermione sits beside Draco as their friends become more and more intoxicated. She still isn’t sure who had the idea to take over the Come and Go Room for a giant party, but given how much alcohol had mysteriously appeared when they all walked in, it was clearly something planned. She smiles at each of them in turn, living it up as though they are on the eve of battle… 

She swallows down that thought, because in truth, they are. They are on the eve of a battle that she was scared they could not, would not win. She was scared because change and progress came at a cost. Peaceful turnovers did not simply occur because you say please. Yes, a few within their group could take up their seats as was their right… Blaise, Neville, the Selwyn heir, Rowle heir, a few others who had a claim to an empty seat they had not yet touched. From there, it would take Draco demanding his seat, with Theo a step behind him - and who were the old wizards to stop them?

And once those with a birthright to their seats had been approved, those with a Muggleborn parent would step in to take theirs. After all, if Blood Purity was no longer a thing, then why should it matter who their father had wed? And from there, they would fill each seat, until slowly but surely, they had emptied the Wizengamot of those that held tight to the old thought of blood purity and power.

This would be a coup. A complete and total coup. And Hermione would remain at Hogwarts, safely within the walls, waiting to hear what happened. Dumbledore, surely, would head to the Ministry once the boys made their move, and then the teaching staff would come for her, and she would remain within this room, along with every other seventh year girl, and a few sixth years.

They were the ones to wed those leaving on the train, or those that wished but could not, because of the current law. They would remain within this room until Draco sent back word…

Or until she felt the bonds of their marriage fade from her skin.

She felt so scared, she could barely taste the wine that Draco had pressed into her hand an hour earlier.

In the morning, when they arrived in London, they would be joined by those that had come to their cause, older brothers and friends that had a voice that wanted to be heard. They were all Pureblood sons, some Slytherin yes, but also a few Ravenclaws, and one notable Gryffindor, Bill Weasley. Apparently, the eldest Weasley had a Pureblood girlfriend from the continent that he was unable to wed. The others, well, some wanted to wed Pureblood girls of their own, and some just hated their fathers more than anything else.

A few words from the future Lady Malfoy had quickly brought them all to their side.

This was it, this was their future. They were taking it back, taking hold of it, but there was a cost, and if Draco was one of them, if any died because of her…

But if this went well, there would be no more forced marriages, no more betrothals and arrangements. No more Obliviations… Hermione would be the last one forced to give up her freedom to remain in this world.

And that scared her as well. It scared her that, after the law was overturned, Draco would come to regret his decision to marry her so quickly. They could have put off the wedding, perhaps, and overturned the law together. There had been no rush, although once they were both seventeen it was acceptable to be wed, even before they had completed school… 

She feared he would regret that they were bonded for life, and that he would wish to have another, a Pureblood, as she had come to learn his father wanted.

Lucius Malfoy had never planned on her staying as the Lady Malfoy. Within a few years, he would have disposed of her while the wheel turned, and the law faded into dust. And then, Draco would have married a Pureblood girl to have proper Pureblood children.

Draco had confessed that to her late one night, Firewhisky on his breath while he cried. He cried as he held a letter from his mother, a letter that was in response to one Hermione had sent a few days earlier, telling Narcissa Malfoy that Draco planned to take his future in his hands, and not follow in the path that was being laid before him.

The response had relieved Hermione’s greatest fears - Lady Malfoy was on their side, and would always support her son in all things. She said nothing more, because of course, correspondence could be intercepted, but the relief on Draco’s face… 

He had cried and confessed the fear he held of his father, knowing that the man had never truly changed, knowing that as the son and heir, he had to be perfect, had been instructed to find the perfect Muggleborn wife, and knowing that it would only ever end in tragedy. There was no happy ending for Pureblood heirs, he had whispered. 

He had fallen asleep before she could ask him why her, and why he was acting out now.

Draco sits beside her silent now, watching the party continue on. She could not bring herself to look at him. There was still so much that they had not discussed, so many questions unanswered. Everything up until this point had been about the Wizengamot, about who to trust, about which laws they had to take out at which time, about how hard to press for change. They still had not discussed their marriage, nor the fact that their bond, even after the law was dissolved, could not follow suit.

Husband. He is her husband, and she knows so much about him now after just a few months of marriage. She knows the way he takes his tea. She knows that he is not truly awake until he has had a shower. She knows that he worries his hair is becoming too long, much like his father’s, an image he feared ever seeing in the mirror. She knows that he could spend hours staring at the fire without moving, contemplating a problem. She knows that he excels at potions, but prefers Charms. And she knows that, for as much as he likes green and wears black, he prefers gray.

But she doesn’t know  _ him _ . Not really. She doesn’t truly know what his touch feels like, his fingers running down her bare back, her own sliding over his strong shoulders. She doesn’t truly know what his taste is like on her lips, being consumed by the scent of him. She doesn’t know the sense of his magic mixing with hers, as it had at their bonding - she doesn’t know what it could be like to have him truly become part of her, body and soul.

And she craves it. She craves to know every bit of her husband. The thought that he might leave tomorrow, never to return, whether through death or preference…

It wrecks her very core.

With a shaking hand, she lifts the goblet to her lips, forcing herself to take a sip. She coughs almost immediately, shuddering at the taste. After so much time spent with the Malfoys, it appeared as though Hermione was unable to stomach something that tasted so… cheap.

“It truly is ghastly,” Draco says, reaching over to take the goblet from her. “Last time I let the bloody Irish supply the alcohol. When all of this is over, I’m whisking you away to our vineyard in France.”

Her breath catches at his words, and for a moment, Hermione can’t breathe. It’s the first time, the first real time he had ever mentioned a future for them - a future where he would take her to a vineyard, his vineyard, as though that was perfectly normal, that he should take his wife there. She feels her hands shaking at the thought, and she watches him take another sip of the wine, nose curling slightly in disgust.

“Ah, well. Soon. Soon, this will all be over.”

Her lips suddenly feel dry at his words, and she wishes the wine was still within her grasp, to help her choke down the nausea. It takes her a few deep breaths before she can finally give a response, eyes cutting over to him as she speaks.

“Alas, we are but King and Queen of the May.” 

Looking him over, she can see something regal in him, something almost otherworldly. It goes beyond the startlingly blonde hair and slender features. It’s the way he holds himself, the way he glances around the room, the way he takes everything in before speaking, as though giving a verdict. Should anyone in this room ever be offered a crown, it would rightly go on his head, and after this takeover, Draco Malfoy would have it all - the wealth, the brilliance, the prestige, and the power. Only a Minister, elected by the people, could sit higher - and she highly doubts an old man would last long with a young and progressive Wizengamot making changes to law and policy.

A fear runs through her though, much as it has been the past few weeks. They could still lose. They might be in the right, but the right was not guaranteed a victory. What would happen to her, if Draco was killed? If he was captured and sent to Azkaban? Would she join him there, or would she be Obliviated and returned to Muggle life? Or worst of all, would it be exile, to know but to never return.

“And tomorrow will come to strip us of our crowns,” she finished, looking away from him and instead down at her hands, fingers interlocking in an attempt to keep her hands from shaking at the thought. 

Tomorrow could be the end of everything. The end of her life as a witch. The end of her life as his wife.

“No… no, my love. We have far too much work to do to let that happen now.”

Her breath caught at his words -  _ my love _ . Never before had he used such a term of endearment. In truth, he occasionally called her his wife, but for the most part, since their wedding, he always called her Hermione. To hear him call her such a thing… 

“ _ We _ ?” she asks weakly, unable to respond to the endearment.

It takes a moment, and then slowly, his entire body turns towards her, his body shifting in his seat so that every bit of his attention is closed off to the rest of the room. Never before had Hermione felt as though she was the sole focus of someone’s entire attention - even at their wedding, Draco had been unable to look at her. Now, even with the chaos of the room going on around them, it is clear to her that he sees, hears, breathes nothing but her.

His gaze moves from her eyes down, lingering at her neck, she thinks, then lower - his eyes go to her hands, still tense and knuckles turned white. His lips press together, something she  _ knows _ means he is trying to make a decision without voicing it aloud, and then he looks back up into her eyes. His hand lifts up, up into her hair, and one of his fingers finds a curl that has fallen forward over her shoulder from the tasteful clip she had used to pin most of it to hang down her back.

She had been wearing it down more, ever since that night at The Three Broomsticks, but he had said nothing about it, not even a simple notice. It was still tame, the curls properly swirling together, keeping the frizziness from being what it once was, but he had said nothing all the same. She had been near to giving up on him noticing, until tonight. Now, she watches his finger run through a few more strands, and then up to her cheek, nearly touching her skin.

“We.”

The way the word comes from his lips, there’s a sense of finality to it, as though there was no real question to him - when all of this was over, they would still be standing together, side by side. The only question left to ask herself was whether or not she would reach out and take his hand.

He answers the question for her, though, when his hand falls from her hair down into her lap. Her eyes move from where they are locked on his to look at their hands, now, at the way his fingers run over the back from her wrist to the tips of her fingers, and she relaxes enough that he can separate her hands. She lets him, and he interlocks their fingers, then lifts her hand to his mouth. Her gaze goes with her hand, watching as he presses a kiss to first her thumb, and then to the back, before allowing their hands to fall together, resting on the arm of her chair.

All Hermione can do is stare at their hands, comparing his pale skin with calluses from both broom and quill to her small and dainty hands, soft but stained from ink. There is something more to this, something deeper in holding hands, and it takes her time to work through it, even enough time for Draco to pass a few words with Theo, but he never pulls away. They had never held hands before, and as she sits there feeling the way his thumb rubs over the back of her hand, she realizes the intimacy in it. This is bare skin to bare skin, simply holding one another for the simple joy of being connected.

Her husband. This is her husband. Draco Malfoy. Her future and his were tied together. He had made a vow to her, called her his wife, his  _ love _ . And now, it suddenly has become her turn to invite him in. She knows, now, that she has to be brave. She has to be a lion.

_ She has to be the witch that he married _ .

Rising from the chair, she allows her eyes to lower to the ground for a moment, then move back to their hands, now being strained slightly as she had pulled away from him. Draco momentarily fumbles, almost pulling his hand away as he rises to join her, but she refuses to let go. Looking up at him as he stands beside her, she squeezes slightly on his hand, almost seeming to lock him in place. There’s clear confusion in his eyes, but she takes a deep breath, knowing just what to say to clear it all away.

“You have an early morning. Come to bed with me…”

With just those words, realization dawns on his face, and she can see a sense of wonder fill his eyes. She smiles and turns away, keeping their hands together as she leads him to the grand door of the Come and Go Room. He’s just a half step behind her, and then he’s at her side, seeming to realize that they are, in fact, heading back to their rooms. 

She’s thankful, on their long walk down, that it is so dark, because otherwise, he would see how red her cheeks have become, and the fact that she cannot seem to be able to stop herself from licking her lips.

They make it as far as their corridor. The torches spark to life as they stand in front of their door with a simple bit of wandless wordless magic, but before she can voice the password, she feels his hand on her hip, drawing her against him. Her back hits his chest, his lips brushing against her ear, and she shivers as he groans at the contact between them.

“Hermione… we don’t have to… you don’t have to do anything…”

“We’re married,” she breathes out, and it takes all of her willpower to not lean back against him, to not let herself lose herself to the warmth. “We’ve been bonded for nearly half a year, and you have yet to touch me. Your mother told me you wanted me above all others… was that to please your father, or to please yourself?”

Draco groans into her hair as he releases her hand, and she fears for a moment he might pull away, but instead, his hand slides around to her lower belly, holding her close. She can feel the warmth of his hand through the layers, and arousal suddenly floods through her body. A few inches higher or lower, he could be exploring parts of her body that ache for his touch.

“I do not wish to discuss either of them right now…” 

She attempts to block out the disappointment, wanting to ask again, to ask why he wanted her above all others, if that had ever even been true, but if she asks again, she might not like the answer, and she needs him, just once, just-

“I crave you above all things, witch. I would give you anything. Is this what you want? Tell me you want this, and I’ll give you anything, give you the world.”

She sucks in a shaky breath as she presses back into him, feeling his arousal at her lower back. He wants her, craves her, and she-

“Why did you marry me?” she asks. She has to know, has to hear him say it, has to hear him confirm he hopes and dreams. If he craves her, then surely-

He spins her around, pressing her back against the door as his hands move, one returning to her hip, the other pressing against the cold stone of the doorway. His eyes are wide as he looks down at her, searching with a question that she doesn’t know the answer to.

“Let me take you to bed. Let me show you why I married you. Will you let me? Will you let me know what it feels like to be with you? I might die tomorrow-”

She rises up onto her toes, kissing him to stop him from speaking further. She doesn’t want to talk about tomorrow, doesn’t want to talk about what is to come. He craves her, and for now, that has enough. He craves her, craves being with her, had even promised the world to her. 

He had literally made an  _ Unbreakable Vow _ to her. To protect her, to end those that stood against them, to follow her wherever she led.

And tonight, she is leading them to their marriage bed, where she finally intends on giving into the magical bond that had been thick under their skin for months now. It had been easy to ignore the constant tie that was pulling them together when it was nothing but a thread. Now, the ties that bind them feel like thick and heavy ropes, growing shorter and heavier with each passing day.

Draco freezes as she draws back - the press of their lips going no further, but Hermione is not planning to stop their actions, only pause them. She feels desperate for him, but whatever bit of senses still remain within her are telling her to take this from the cold and draft corridor. There’s fear in his eyes, though, as he looks at her, and desperation in his taste as he pulls her back in, pressing his lips against hers.

She gives in for just a breath, her back arching to press her chest against his, but she manages the unthinkable, jerking her head back just enough that she can whisper out the password. They both stumble a few steps as the entrance swings open, but she moves with it, pulling her husband with her by grasping the front of his robes. 

Warmth and light from the common room breaks up the thick and heady nature of their interrupted kisses in the corridor, and it gives her enough clarity of mind to take a deep breath. Draco closes the door, but before he can move towards her, she is already walking towards their bedrooms, throwing a grin over her shoulder. She hopes to be playing much a cat and mouse game with him, hopeful that her look is somewhat seductive when she in truth feels shy, but he catches up to her in a few steps, closing in behind her and grabbing at her, stopping her from proceeding any deeper into their rooms. 

Hermione can feel the strength of him as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her back against his chest, and his lips are at her ear once more. She feels more than hears him taking in a deep breath, likely of her hair, and she closes her eyes, letting herself sink into the warmth. 

His free hand runs into a few of the curls that have fallen forward once more, even going so far as to tug one slightly, the back of his hand brushing against her breast. A whisper escapes her lips at the nearness of it, and she tries to catch her breath, willing herself to remain upright and not allow her knees to give out.

“I need your consent, my wife,” he murmurs against her ear. “Tell me the words I long to hear…”

Another moan escapes from her parted lips as his drag over her ear, down to her neck. She tries to think clearly, to imagine what it is he wants to hear exactly - what could he long to hear from her? His teeth nip at her earlobe, and then she can feel his hot breath against the side of her neck, dipping lower and lower as he holds her to him. 

Her hands move wildly, trying to find something to grasp, and she reaches back, one hand finding his robes, the other meeting his wrist, clinging to keep herself upright. Is this what it felt like to be drugged? She feels insane, her head becoming foggy, and she can feel the binding on them tightening, drawing them together. It takes a moment, then clicks - lust. She had consented in her heart, and now, the lust that had been filling her for some time was overflowing.

Draco begins pressing open mouthed kisses to all the skin he can reach, pulling her hair out of the way with his free hand as he does so, and she shivers at the way her magic seems to rear up, no longer under her control. It’s wild, unstable, demanding, and she wants to let go, to be free. She wants to be out of control herself, to live in this moment with him, to submit to the desires that are overwhelming her.

And then, fear enters her - fear that she might fail, that she might not be good enough, that she might not please him. That fear is enough to calm the magical storm brewing between them, and gives her enough clarity to finally answer his pleas.

“I want you,” she gasps, and it’s true, even through her fear. “I want you, my husband.”

He groans into her hair, his grasp on her tightening for just a breath, and then he’s releasing her from his hold, stepping back. Whipping around, Hermione catches him blinking wildly, the dazed look in his eyes fading. She suspects the same look is in her eyes. The magic, it was beginning to overwhelm them both. It was time to simply give in, except she did not know the next step. 

Given his hesitancy, it appears that neither does her husband.

Turning towards the bedroom, she reaches for his hand, taking it and interlocking their fingers. She looks up at him for a moment, a smile spreading over her lips and then his, and she lets herself relax, just a touch. She doesn’t stop to think about what is about to occur, instead only thinking about finally feeling his body against hers. She leads him into the room that should have been theirs, but was instead now his, and before she can even take it in, he’s already using charms and wandless magic, turning the gray sheets into green.

Raising an eyebrow, Hermione looks up at her husband, the question very obvious with her glance.

“I always imagined seeing you in green sheets,” he says with a smirk, causing Hermione to roll her eyes at him.

“If we’re both going to start chasing our fantasies, just wait until I tell you about the library.” There’s a grin on her lips, and she feels herself relax at the light teasing. Of course, the relaxation lasts for only another second, until she realizes she does not know what to do next.

She thinks, if she was a truly brave witch, she might just… throw off her robe, or perhaps use a vanishing charm. Something, anything to get this moving forward. There’s no way to take off her stockings and boots without awkwardly bending down, and it takes time to hook and unhook each individual button on her dress. It’s suddenly very apparent to her why her mother-in-law uses a house elf to help her dress and undress each day, but there is no way Hermione is calling for a Malfoy elf right now.

She finally looks away from him to consider the front of her robes, fingers moving to pull at the set of four buttons there. The robe is thick and warm, something needed on cold and drafty nights in the castle, but now, she feels as though it’s suffocating her. Her fingers manage the first button, and then another, but the vanishing charm suddenly feels like a brilliant idea as she struggles with the last two. 

It’s Draco that comes to her rescue, reaching out, and she expects him to use a bit of magic to undress her, but instead, he simply takes his time. Her hands fall to either side as she watches him intently study the robes, and then it’s falling loose on her frame, no longer held together in the front. 

Allowing the material to slide down her arms, Hermione does nothing to catch the fabric as it falls to the floor, leaving her now in a beautiful dress that, in truth, she had never intended to wear at Hogwarts. Another thick and practical dress for the cold, but it speaks to her status, the wife of a wealthy and elite Pureblood heir. The fabric is divine and buttery soft on the inside, with the cut working around her frame, giving her a soft figure that she is not sure is truly there.

She loves the power that the dress makes her feel, like it’s some sort of witch's armor, but the front placket covers a number of tiny buttons. She pulls it aside, revealing to her husband what in all he has to contend with, and she knows that now he will use magic - except, once more, he is using his fingers to unhook each button in turn. 

“Please, allow me,” he says softly, his cool and calm presence relaxing her, and she contemplates those words - they were not the request of a man offering to escort her across a street, nor an offer to carry her books. No, they were a request, that she allow him to undress her. There is no way she will make him stop.

Draco does not stop as he reaches halfway down, and it’s enough that Hermione could push it down and step out of it, but he seems content with his work, until each button is freed from bondage. As soon as his hands release the dress, Hermione gives a slight shake, letting it fall from her shoulders, and then down lower, over her hips until it hits the floor with an audible thud. She tries to not shiver as she is left in just her shift and undergarments, but the goosebumps that seem to run over her skin are not from the cold.

No, they are from the way he is looking at her, from top to bottom. When his gaze reaches her feet, he steps backwards, offering her a hand, and she takes it, allowing her to escape the confines of the dress and robes. With a flick of his wand, they both take up a place in his wardrobe.

Looking down at her body, Hermione takes in the simple shift, an underlayer that Narcissa had not allowed her to forgo. She still wore the muggle undergarments, although they were a touch nicer now than they had been a few years earlier, but they are muggle all the same. The stockings are a touch of both wizarding and muggle - she does not use magic to keep them up. She hopes that does not bother Draco.

He lowers himself to the floor before her after another long look over her body, and she watches as he reaches for her laces, starting to unhook and unthread first one, and then the other. He remains on the floor as he works at tugging them off, and Hermione has to reach out to hold onto the bed to stay upright. Her boots are tucked underneath the edge of the bed, and there’s something intimate in that thought, seeing them sitting beside his quidditch boots.

She expects him to rise, except his eyes are now on her stockinged leg, trailing up higher until he reaches the lace hem of her shift. Sucking in a breath, Hermione watches as he pulls it up slowly, until he reaches the top lace of her stocking. There are two ribbons there, leading up higher to the garter belt she wears, and he lets out a noise that doesn’t sound truly human. His fingers then run over the top of the lace, and she hears a matching one passing through her own lips.

“Is this… are you wearing a garter belt?” he whispers, and she thanks everything above that she had dressed as she had been taught, in every fine layer. She feels much like a present being unwrapped in this moment. It’s by far the most erotic moment of her life, and she can hardly breathe as her husband looks up at her, their eyes locking.

“Perhaps you could keep exploring, and find out for yourself.”

She can’t believe the words actually came from her lips, and there’s that noise again from Draco as he looks back to her legs. Her teeth catch her bottom lip as he tugs the shift up higher, revealing more of the ribbons and then the soft lace and cotton underwear that matched. After all, black goes with everything - she could never have lingerie that didn’t match if they all came in two shades. 

Draco groans again, his hands freezing as he looks at the place between her legs, making Hermione feel more on display than before. She can feel the moisture and heat there, and she knows how excellent cotton can be, but even now, she thinks she might be able to smell herself. Her cheeks turn red at that thought, but it feels far too late to turn back now.

Reaching down, she takes the bottom of her shift from him, then lifts it up and over her head, revealing her garter belt and bra. Tossing it to the side, she reaches back to unclip her hair, shaking it out as she does so. If there was ever a moment to feel beautiful and sexy, she thinks it should be this, her first time with her husband. 

Her lips quiver as she looks down at him, and she can see that he’s no longer looking at her, but is instead studying the floor. Did he not like what he saw? Surely… surely she was not so unattractive...

“Draco?” she whispers, calling out to him, and he looks up at her, eyes wide.

“You never call me that,” he responds, and he pushes himself up off the floor to stand in front of her, eyes never leaving her face. “Always Malfoy, if you even call me anything at all.”

She wracks her brain for a moment, trying to remember all of their interaction- but in truth, she rarely spoke to him. Pureblood wives are to be seen, a pretty ornament, but not heard. Up until a few weeks earlier, she had had no idea that the wife Draco wanted was  _ not _ the one his mother had trained. And even then… Perhaps she had never used his name.

“Would you rather I call you  _ My Husband _ ?” she asks, lifting her chin as she looks up at him. He’s so close, the edges of his robes touching her bare skin, and she doesn’t look away as slides his hand around her waist again, pulling her close, except this time - this time she can feel the calluses on his hand against the softness of her backside. It’s both heaven and hell, to be so close to him but not one with him, and she feels nearly drunk off desire for him, her husband.

“I would have you call me anything you desire,” he answers, and leans forward, lips brushing over her forehead. “But I hope to one day earn a new name from you, my love.”

Her eyes close at his kiss, and goosebumps prickle over her skin at the sensation. She takes another slow breath, trying to keep her breathing steady, and opens then again when he withdraws, just in time to see his eyes opening as well.

“But not until you’re ready,” he added.

Nodding, Hermione licks her lips, then looks down over his body, still wearing his robes from earlier. They are not the sort that are buttoned, but instead hang loose over a well-fitted suit. Still…

Much like he had done for her, Hermione reaches up, sliding the robes from his shoulders. She flicks her wrist, sending his robes to the closet, and then reaches for the coat jacket he wears. She finds a row of buttons running down, and somehow, her hands are far more steady as she unhooks each one, until eventually that too hangs open, revealing the dress shirt underneath. He is unmoving as she slides the jacket from his shoulders and sends it to join his robe, but when she reaches for his collar, he stops her, instead offering up his wrists, revealing his cufflinks.

Cufflinks that she had technically given him in response to their betrothal.

Of course, they had been selected from one of the Malfoy vaults, but still, they were the ones that had come from her. She swallows hard as she carefully removes the cufflinks, and turns to set them on his desk. Thinking on it, she reaches up to remove her own jewelry, first her earrings and then her necklace. She looks down at her wrist, at the bracelet that remains, the one that shows she’s his witch, his wife. There’s no ring on her finger, something she still considers odd given her muggle heritage, but - 

“Leave it on?” he asks, and she turns to look at her husband, a soft smile on her face.

“Of course,” she says, stepping back to him over to continue in her task.

Together, they work at the buttons that run down his shirt, until finally his bare chest is on display. She has to work at the belt that keeps his trousers up, but then she is the one sinking to her knees, taking a deep breath as she does so, to help him remove his boots and socks.

She tries to not think too much as she looks up at him once he is in just his underpants, but before she can contemplate her next move, he is offering her his hand, raising her up to stand before him.

They are both on the verge of being naked, and she shivers a little, more from cold than nerves, but it’s a shiver all the same.

“Do you…” she licks her lips, eyes glancing at the bed, and then back up at him. “Do you know what to do?”

Never before had Hermione lacked knowledge, true knowledge. She has zero experience with this. Yes, she had never truly studied magic until Hogwarts, but she still knew what it felt like to have some power at your fingertips. She had never been raised to be a Pureblood witch, but her family was Upper Middle Class, and she had received a number of classes on proper etiquette. This, however - she had never experienced anything before Draco, and this was legions further than they had ever gotten before.

He shakes his head, his eyes caught on her chest, and then down to her hip, his breathing coming out harder the longer he stares. “Father tried to take me to… well, I turned him down.”

“When?” she asks, and Hermione can not believe they are bringing up his father in this moment of complete vulnerability, but she wants to know.

“Between Fifth and Sixth year,” he says with a shrug, and he looks back up into her eyes as he speaks. “And again, just after my birthday.”

They had been betrothed both times, and Draco had turned his father down. In the muggle world, she could not imagine any boy turning down a chance at having a romp with a girl, or at least that was what she had been led to believe, but Draco… They had barely known each other back then, but he was already proving himself to be honorable. He never even had to tell her the truth, and yet, he had remained true to their betrothal.

“Why not?” she asks, and she can guess at the answer, but she wants to hear it. “I know it’s traditional, that the witch remains pure while the wizard enjoys… other relations. Why go against tradition?”

He says nothing for a long moment, and then pulls her closer to him, dropping her hand at the last moment so that he can wrap his arm around her waist, pulling her body to touch his. Draco’s free hand runs into her hair, and his thumb catches underneath her jaw, forcing her to look up at him, as though she were not already.

His lips hover over hers for a moment, and then he finally answers.

“Because, my love, they would not have been you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shoutout to the lovely canttouchthis, who has been kind enough to beta read this fic. We really worked hard on tenses, which is the thing I'm garbage at - I literally basically wrote this at 3am, and then rewrote it all with proper tenses at midnight the next night.
> 
> We all make bad life choices. Be better than me. Write when you're semi-conscious, or else you'll spend hours fixing tenses.
> 
> You've likely noticed I added two chapters - the first chapter added was the second part of this one, but this chapter is BIG ENOUGH. The second chapter added is more like an epilogue, as there were some concerns that I would be unable to wrap this up with a neat bow in the chapters I had originally planned, and I agree! So, yes.
> 
> As always - I'm on [tumblr](http://melanoradrood.tumblr.com). If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to ask! I love responding to comments / asks.
> 
> When will the next chapter be up? -insert shrug emoji here- Whenever it's done?


	4. All I Need Is You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, they become one.

Every kiss from Draco Malfoy had been something new. Their first kiss, their first real kiss, had been almost impulsive, as though he had not known what else to do but kiss her. The second had been a kiss of trust. Their kisses in the corridor had been fire and passion, almost as though they had lost all control, and they nearly had.

This kiss now, however, is something sweet and timid. Hermione never would have thought it from him, that anything about Draco Malfoy could be described as timid. It felt as though he was scared, scared of his confession, scared of how she would react. Instead of feeling scared, however, Hermione felt a thrill. Excitement. Joy. Desire. Wanted.

Her head tips back as he kisses her, and she lets him lead, lets him slowly explore her mouth. She does not push forward, instead letting him feel her body against his, until eventually, he starts pulling back - and then she throws caution to the wind, and makes her move. 

Up on her tiptoes, Hermione runs her fingers into his hair, and tugs at the roots, bringing him back to her level. The gasp from his lips spurs her on, but any other noise escaping from him is swallowed as she parts her lips, not willing to retreat. She does not release his hair until his grip around her waist tightens, and then they are lost, lost together. It feels as though their magic wraps around them, and she almost freezes, scared that the magic will push them too fast once more. Instead, it almost flows between them.

It’s pleased, she realizes after a moment. Pleased because they’re coming together, because nothing is going to stop them. She relaxes, and feels Draco relax with her.

“Bed?” he asks softly, and she can see fear in his eyes when she opens her own to look up at him. 

She gives him a smile, wanting to set him at ease, and tries to nod. Instead, her teeth catch her bottom lip, and she watches his eyes go straight to it, his breath catching.

“Just watch,” she says with a grin, and she steps back from him, as much as she can. His grip on her tightens for a moment, as though he’s scared to release her, but his hold on her drops as she goes to walk around him, one hand on the bedpost.

Looking back over her shoulder, she watches her husband’s eyes slide over her body, down, down until they are… oh yes. Her husband is staring straight at her back end. She knows that her breasts are a nice handful, but she thinks her backside is by far her best attribute, particularly with the garterbelt, ribbons, stockings, and lace knickers. The roundness of her cheeks are peeking out of the bottom, and when she climbs up onto the bed with just one knee, his jaw drops, breath quickening.

“See something you like?” she says with a tease, and in seconds he is crossing the room, seeming to forget that she had told him to watch.

Hermione doesn’t mind, however - she simply rolls over onto her back, watching as her husband pounces. Her head hits a pillow, and then he’s climbing on top, one leg between hers, so close she can almost feel his knee against her center. Her breath catches at that, and she suddenly imagines herself riding his leg - something, perhaps, for another day.

“I thought I told you to just watch,” she murmurs, batting her lashes at him, and lifting her gaze slowly up to his eyes. 

“I need you,” he confesses, and he dips down to kiss her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, and then her lips.

After that, it’s a blur.

One moment, they’re kissing, bodies pressed together, and the next he’s rolling onto his back, pulling her over top of him. Their bodies seem to grind together, and she imagines that this is what a normal Muggle girl would be doing with her boyfriend, blindly groping, touching, exploring over clothes. It feels so normal, so simple - 

But the magic whirls around them again, and she can’t help but shift her body lower, rocking herself against him. There’s still two layers of fabric between them, but she can feel his body responding to hers, and it takes everything in Hermione’s power to not vanish the few layers left.

“I need-” she’s gasping against his lips, pulling back, but as she sits upright, she can feel him hardening between her inner thighs, and it distracts her further.

He pushes her off, back flat onto the bed, and then climbs back over her, grabbing the outside of both legs to spread them, and slot himself in between.

“I’ve got you, I got you,” he insists against her throat, and she doesn’t know what he has, but she trusts him to figure out what she needs, what it is that she can’t quite grasp.

His mouth reaches her collarbone, and she shifts her hips, trying to find something, but there’s nothing but air, and it’s enough to bring tears to her eyes. She needs him. She needs something to press herself against, something to grind herself on, but instead of having him, he has his knees pressing into the backs of her legs, keeping her still.

“Draco-” she gasps, but it sounds more like a whine, and she thinks she might even beg next.

“Got you, I’ve got you,” he insists, and he presses an open mouth kiss in the valley between her breasts, but it’s not enough.

“Touch me, please, oh Merlin, Draco, God-”

“Shh, I promise,” he murmurs again, and his hand tugs down the front of her bra, just enough that one of her nipples pops out. The rub of the lace against the puckered skin is enough to make her moan, and then his mouth is on it, sucking the nub into his mouth. His tongue swirls around it, and the noise-

The noise that escapes her lips is so loud and high pitched, she imagines she can hear glass breaking - no, she can definitely hear glass breaking.

And then, it somehow gets better. Better, because there’s something between her legs, and it feels  _ good _ .

Scratch that. Better than good. Better than getting a perfect score in Potions. Better than hearing someone call her the Brightest Witch of the Age. Better than hearing Mrs. Malfoy tell her that she is an asset to the family. Better than the smell of an old book and the feeling of a new quill running over parchment.

Her back arches at only the slightest touch but she feels the damp lace of her knickers being pushed to the side and two fingers sliding over her swollen clit, and that’s… that’s… 

She doesn’t have words for it. Later, if she had to describe the feeling, she would have been unable to find them. She had touched herself before, yes, of course, but this was… it was…

In no universe would Hermione ever be able to describe the feeling of her husband touching her for the first time.

“Tell me if I do anything wrong,” he says against the side of her breast, and he nips at the nipple still bound by lace, trying to suck at it through the fabric. “Salazar, so wet, so perfect, love-”

It’s a good thing his knees are holding her open, because instinct tells her to pull away, but also to move against him - but in seconds, his fingers are at work, two of them, just spread enough that her clit is somehow sliding between them. He seems to not know what else to do, just rubbing back and forth, but it’s enough, and she lets out a scream, her head falling back.

“Please, please,” she begs, and she can find nothing else to say, just wanting more and more and more of him. He keeps moving, up and down, and she shakes her head, knowing something is off, it’s not quite right, but she doesn’t know how.

“Show me,” he demands, and his hand slips from within her - that draws a pitiful whine from her, and they both look down together, past her stomach, sucked in against the lace, to where his damp fingers are.

They both seem to freeze, and then he pulls his fingers up, up to his lips. His mouth opens, and she watches, eyes wide, as he touches his fingers to his lips, then dips them in. He sucks the juices off one finger, and then the other, and she holds her breath, watching, frozen. His eyes are closed, almost testing out the taste, and then they shoot open, hand falling from his mouth.

“Is it… do I taste okay?” she whispers, and she’s suddenly nervous, not knowing what to expect.

His breathing is hard as his hand falls onto the bed beside her head, and he leans down to kiss her, soft. She can smell herself, but there’s no taste as he draws back without deepening the kiss.

“I’m going to spend hours between your thighs,” he insists, and he presses another kiss quickly to her lips. “But not tonight. Tonight, you’re going to use my hand to get yourself off.”

With a shaky breath, she nods and looks down between their bodies at herself, feeling so raw and exposed - he had just had his hand between her legs, tasted her even, but the thought of showing him how she touched herself was too much.

No, she was braver than that, is braver than that. She can do this - after all, she is his wife. They are looking at a lifetime together. If she wants to enjoy her marital bed… well, it is time that he learns how to make her scream.

“Do you want to take these off?” she asks, and her hand finally withdrawals from his hair, where she realizes it had been clinging and tugging the entire time he touched her. She imagines him pulling at her hair like that, and then she has a flash to a memory of a drawing in a book she had spied in the Malfoy library -

_ Not tonight _ . 

Oh, there is a vast amount of knowledge she wants to discover with him, so many ideas as to how they could explore one another, but not tonight. Tonight, she wants to actually feel him in her, and finish. Oh, how badly she wants to finish.

“Yeah,” he says with a gulp, and he sits up a little, enough she can see the bulge in his undershorts. “Yeah, we can… take it all off?” 

His eyes are on her stockings, though, and she smirks for a moment, thinking about leaving them on.

“Here,” she says, sitting up, and she unhooks the bra in the front, tossing it off the bed. Her breasts had already been out, but still, his eyes are drawn to them, and then down to her stomach as she unhooks the four ribbons connecting the garter belt to her stockings.

The hook to the garter belt is under a little bow at the front, and she unhooks it quickly, letting it fall off. Tossing it down to where her bra is on the floor, Hermione takes a deep breath, hooking her thumbs into her underwear, when Draco’s hand stops her.

“Allow me?” he asks, and she gives a nod, laying back onto the bed.

“Will you take off yours as well?” she asks, her eyes lingering over the bulge.

He takes a gulp, then nods in response before giving an answer. “Yes. If that’s okay with you.”

She takes long purposeful breaths as she watches him move down the bed, between her legs, and she shifts so that her head is on the pillows. Up on her forearms, she watches as he awkwardly moves to push his undershorts down, and off his legs. It’s somehow not as graceful as she imagined, but it’s endearing how his cheeks turn red when he looks up at her, and then her eyes drift down-

“There’s no way that fits,” she says without thought. 

He laughs for a breath, the blush still spreading, but then his fingers are hooking into her underwear. His eyes shift up to lock with hers, he whispers, “I thought you knew everything. Didn’t you know, you stretch to fit? Trust me, by the time I’m inside of you, I’ll be able to slide right in…”

He slid her underwear down her legs as he spoke, keeping her distracted just enough, so that when he was tossing them over her shoulder, she was bare without thought. His eyes move down between her legs, and she wonders what it must look like to him, and watches his face carefully. There’s no emotion, no reaction at first, and then his fingers are sliding over her, rubbing back and forth a touch.

Her hips jerk at the movement, and then there’s a grin on his lips, making Hermione think that, whatever he sees, he’s certainly at least not horrified.

There’s no speaking as they both seem to move together, Hermione laying flat on her back while Draco moves back between her legs, just heavy breathing and the sound of blankets being moved about. Her legs are tossed over his arms, one on each side, and for a horrified second, Hermione fears that he’s about to press his mouth between her legs.

She thinks about the last time she bathed, thinks about the hair growing there, worries for the cleanliness, and then she imagines his lips sucking, and that… that might be too much.

He seems to sense how tense she is, and looks up at her with a raised brow.

“Too much?” he asks.

She gulps down her fears, but still gives a nod, “Just… just touch me?”

He stares at her for a long moment, but then relaxes - her legs still stay up, however, keeping her from moving too much. His arms go around her legs, until one of his hands is reaching up, grabbing her hand, pulling it between her legs. She realizes that he means for her to touch herself for him to watch, and she nervously slides her fingers over herself.

Using the pads of three fingers, she rolls them over and around, in small circular motions. In seconds, she’s relaxing under him, and she can actually look up at him again. His eyes are locked on her fingers, watching the motion as she teases her clit, slow and steady. She imagines him using his fingers to press into her, but she’s too nervous to ask.

They stay like that for a moment, her relaxing as she continues, until finally, he looks up at her. His mouth is open as he sucks in each breath, and then his free hand reaches for her free one. Their fingers interlock, and she grips it tight, squeezing his hand. Her eyes then go back to between their bodies, and she stops the motion of her fingers.

They dip lower, until she finds where she’s dripping wet and aching, and her fingers dip in.

Eyes fluttering shut, Hermione tries her best to dip lower, but it’s hard like this, with her legs in the air and laying flat on her back. Still, she tries to curl them, drawing out to rub at her clit once more, then dipping again. She can feel his eyes following the movement, and when she groans, his hand grabs her wrist, stopping the motions.

“I think I have it now,” he murmurs, and he pulls her hand to his mouth. His eyes close as he sucks her fingers in, licking at the tips, and then he releases it, attention going back to her body.

It’s slow at first, using three fingers, and she has to urge him to press a little harder; but then he’s rolling her clit around, just the right amount of pressure to it. Her fingers squeeze his hand, and he dips his fingers into her core, and that sets her body on fire. Back arching, she can feel her eyes roll into his skull, the sudden fullness of his longer and thicker fingers reaching so deep within her, she thinks she might find release from just that.

His thumb seems to find her clit while his other fingers tease at her slit, and she gasps at the shock of cold metal on the sensitive bud, the Malfoy Signet Ring that he wears on his thumb a strong contrast from his warm touch.

“Salazar, Hermione, I didn’t mean to-” He’s pulling away from her, releasing her body, and his hand pulls from hers to tug at the ring, “Let me take this off and-”

“Don’t you dare,” she gasps, reaching out to grab his wrist. There’s fire in his eyes, and she knows her body aches for the cool metal on her hot skin, “I mean-”

His eyes seem to crinkle with amusement at her sudden insistence, and she feels awkward at how he leans over her slightly, looking down at her shaking body.

“Did you enjoy that? The feeling of my ring against your body? You really are perfect, little witch.”

Her teeth catch her bottom lip again, slightly swollen from their kissing, and she nods, watching as his hand goes back between them. Two fingers dip into her, and then his thumb is on her clit, rubbing it back and forth as he does so.

“My little perfect wife,” he says, rolling his thumb around, and she feels his back arch as he starts a rhythm, seemingly ready to draw power from her. “Yes, just like that. Rock yourself with me. Cum on my fingers.”

She gasps at those words, something so filthy about them, and she looks down into his face, watching as he grins. His body leans forward again, and she suddenly feels his length, hot and heavy, against her inner thigh. Without thought, Hermione reaches down, just barely brushing the side, and then her fingers, still wet from her own cunt, wrap around his cock.

“Fuck-,” Draco groans with a shudder, and his eyes flick down their bodies to look at where they move together, his fingers inside of her, her hand around him, just barely stroking each other. They’re so close, he could just shift over and with one thrust be inside of her…

But he doesn’t move. Instead, his fingers continue, his hips now working him in her hand. And Hermione…

Hermione smiles, because it’s not sex, but it’s intimate and it’s hot and she feels filthy and alive, her husband’s thick sex in her hand, and his fingers dipping into her most intimate area.  _ Sex. I’m holding his penis. His fingers are in my vagina. _

She tries to use the real words in her head, but she just giggles, giggles because she’s nervous and this is absurd, and there’s a blush on her cheeks again. And then, Draco is laughing with her, laughing and curling his fingers, adding another, and she-

She’s going to cum. She’s going to cum on his fingers any second now.

“Fuck, I’m not going to last,” Draco groans, and his fingers stop moving, almost like he’s trying to clench his fingers and forgot his hand was exploring her. His thumb stops as well but digs in, the hard metal of his ring pressing against her clit, and she tries to rock her hips to keep him moving. “I want in you, love.”

“We have time,” she insists, and she tries to rock her hips again, but he’s not moving, just breathing hard, “Draco, please!”

She knows she’s whining, but she needs an orgasm, needs to cum, needs a release, needs something, needs-

Bloody hell,  _ him _ . She needs him.

Her hand begins pumping him again, trying to keep a steady rhythm, even though he had been doing all of the work before. But she squeezes slightly, trying to imagine it’s a fruit, perhaps, not certain of her pressure, but he groans and mutters a curse before pumping his hips with her.

In seconds he’s shuddering, and she watches his cum spill out over her hand and onto her stomach. It’s strange, and a scent fills the room she’s unfamiliar with, but she wants to explore it more. His hips stop and he groans, pulling his hips from her, and then-

The distraction of watching him, of being aroused at the sight of him finding release, had helped her to finally relax her own body, enough to give in and let go. His thumb is still rolling over her clit, the edge of the Malfoy Signet having turned enough that it’s almost  _ rough _ on the sensitive bud, and when he curls three fingers in her one last time, she feels her body tense. 

She gasps for one last breath of air, her eyes going wide as she does so, and then Hermione pinches her eyes closed as her toes curl. Something deep within her, deeper than she could have ever imagined, is being pulled at, and then she feels an explosion, not necessarily from where she normally finds pleasure. Her logical brain tries to fill the void with knowledge from those books hidden in the Malfoy Library, but Hermione doesn’t care what type of orgasm it is.

It’s pleasure and it’s all consuming and she’s screaming and gasping, screaming even as Draco leans over and presses his mouth to hers, and then he’s swallowing it all, swallowing every noise as she feels explosions. It’s like the world around her is erupting, glass shattering, the bed frame splitting, even pillows simultaneously combusting, but it’s just them and their magic exploding all at once, a world of sensations suddenly on fire. She can feel the individual threads of the sheets beneath her skin, can feel each hair on her head thrumming with life, and it’s all of the magic, their magic, finally being released. A sense of silence then collapses in on her world, nothing moving and nothing breathing, and she realizes that nothing has changed, the magic within her finally settling.

A sense of calm settles over her for a brief moment, and then his fingers start moving again, having slid out from her and now moving over her clit, rubbing back and forth, almost like he wants more from her. With just that touch, her body tenses once more, and Hermione grabs at his upper arms, nails digging into his skin and his cum rubbing over his chest and arm. She can do nothing but scream into his mouth again, feeling wide open and raw, and it seems to be unending, a wave of pleasure that her very soul longs for.

Her breathing is hard, and that’s all she can hear and think and feel for a few long moments, the simple drag of in and out, her lungs filling over and over, until she blinks her eyes open. Draco is still laying over her, his body half slumped, and she feels damp stickiness clinging to both of them. It could have been hours or seconds between them laying there, and she knows that she should feel some sort of embarrassment, but how can she when her body feels complete?

“Draco?” she whispers, and she’s not sure he’s even awake, or conscious, or-

“Bloody hell, witch,” he murmurs into her hair, and she sucks in another breath, waiting for him to move. “I think you clawed my back apart. Are you part cat?”

Hermione lays there for a long second before erupting into giggles as her husband lifts his head, an amused look on his face. His cheeks are still red, his lips swollen, and she thinks she may have bitten him, but he’s smirking down at her once more, clearly pleased with himself.

“How did you learn to do that?” she asks with a laugh, and she has a sneaking suspicion, but she wants it confirmed before she reveals one of her secrets from the summer.

“There… may have been a few books in the Malfoy Library about this subject. I wanted to be able to please you, if you ever felt ready.”

“If?” she asks with a raise of her brow.

He says nothing, just shrugs his shoulders, and she finds it endearing, that it had been an  _ if _ for him… 

“I may have found those books as well,” she confesses, her teeth grabbing her bottom lip - he leans down and sucks it out from between her teeth, and gives her a quick kiss before pulling back again.

“So, your fantasy of the library-”

Hermione giggles again, remembering mentioning the library earlier that evening. “For that particular fantasy, I actually meant the Restricted Section here at school-”

He groans at her words, falling down on top of her, his face in her hair as he mutters about brilliant witches.

“-but if you want to have your way with me in the Malfoy Library while we surround ourselves with books about sex, I would never say no.”

He chuckles against her hair, and then falls to the side slightly, his head resting on the pillow beside hers. She turns her head to look at him, still breathing hard, smiling. There’s something peaceful in this moment, just looking at one another. She looks down at his hand, dragging over her stomach, reaching for her own hand resting on her abdomen. Their fingers interlock, and then she looks up at him again.

“Draco… how… when did you…”

They’re still breathing hard, but he takes in a deeper breath, shifting so that he’s up on one arm, hovering over her slightly once more, “One question at a time, Hermione.”

She licks her lips, trying to find the right one, before finally setting on a simple one. “Your mother-”

“Not while we’re in bed,” he groans, but Hermione pushes on.

“She said you  _ chose _ me. So, why. Why did you choose me? When did you choose me?”

He stares at her for the longest time, just watching. She wonders what he’s thinking about, whether he wants to give her the truth, if he even knows what the truth is. She wonders if she’s brave enough to hear the answer and accept it.

“My… No, that’s not…”

He struggles to find the right words,but Hermione is in no rush, finding that, while she longs for the answer, she will not drag it from him. Still, her hand reaches out, finding his cheek, and she runs her fingers over his strong jaw. His eyes move up to hers, and he swallows again, then pushes forward.

“I was told to find a Muggleborn witch. The strongest I could find. One that would give me a strong Malfoy heir. My father said - if I had to have a Halfblood son, then they would be one full of power.”

She knows it’s more than that, knows that that is not the full story. He seemed to hate his father, so there’s no way he would have wedded her just for that. The way he looks at her… she wants no miscommunication.

“I hated you. The first week in class, I could look nowhere else. You were what he talked about. Someone smart, someone strong. You had so much power, and I hated you. He talked about me having a halfblood son, like it was some sort of disgrace, and a Muggleborn wife was the greatest punishment for something I had never even done. I wrote to my mother about you, about how I despised you, would never wed you.”

He pauses and she lets her hand fall, just watching him look away as he seems to relive the memories, his shoulders shuddering.

“Before fourth year… he mentioned that a change was coming. He told me to forget the old rules, that if I was to wed a Muggleborn, it would be only to appear as though we were following the rules, but that he would dispose of her when the time came. He told me, time and again, to not actually bed a Muggleborn… or if I had to, to not get her pregnant.”

There’s anger in his brow, and her fingers run up to his forehead, trying to soothe it, but he jerks away and looks up at her, rage clear in his eyes.

“I knew, all those years, that you were the wife I was meant to have, and then he tells me to just plan to kill you, if I still wed you? A lifetime of being forced into something, and then he takes it away with one decision. I knew, for a fact, that you were the only witch for me. I imagined my father trying to kill you - you, with your brilliance, your power, your fire…”

The tears finally fall down his cheeks, and he looks away, trying to shut himself off, but Hermione refuses to allow it, instead sitting up to run her fingers over his cheeks, trying to bring him back to her lips. He pulls back, eyes locking on hers as he gives his final confession.

“I know it was selfish, but the minute he told me I could not have you, I went straight to my mother, and told her that I would have you be the next Lady Malfoy, in truth. I don’t think she ever knew of Father’s plans, and once I realized he was being serious… it was too late. My mother had notified the ministry of our intent, and there was no stopping it. I dragged you into this, trapping you. I had never even really spoken to you, and I doomed you to a life of…”

He seems to break, and she forgets their nudity, forgets their sticky bodies, and forgets everything else and climbs up and into her husband’s arms. She wraps him up tight, holding him close to her, and presses her lips to his forehead, his nose, his lips-

And he clings to her, tighter than anything before, like he is trying to breathe her in, absorb her magic, keep her tightly bound to him for all eternity. She breaths with him, kissing him fiercely, until they are rocking against one another, their hearts beating together as she tries to soothe his soul. She can feel him growing firm against her stomach again, and she pulls him up on top of her, not willing to let go, but wanting him deep within her all the same

“No, wait-” he demands, and she lets him go in a second, but keeps her hand on his upper arm, gripping, not allowing him to leave the bed as she lays there flat on her back. He’s breathing as hard as she is, but he gives his head a shake, as though trying to clear it and regain himself.

“Do you want me?” she asks, not moving from where she lays. She had heard enough - she was what he wanted, even knowing his father would take it away, and she couldn’t hate him for it. After all, they had come to care for one another, and was that not enough? “I don’t care how it started anymore, do you want me now?”

His resolve falters, moving to hover over her, one of his legs in between hers, but his hands keep him upright over her, not kissing, just looking down.

“Don’t you get it, Hermione? You were always so strong, so brave. You were gentle and kind. You were smart, but also wise. You were everything I never deserved. The perfect Malfoy wife. A witch that would keep her wizard in line. I was never worthy of you, but the question of my want, I’ve wanted you since fourth year without question, and in fifth, I realized that, no matter what happened, I would never let my father touch you. I need you. Only you. I desire nothing else.”

Her lips quiver at his confession, and she blinks back her own tears, not sure how to respond. He seems to know, however, and dips down to press a kiss to her forehead, her nose, and then both cheeks. He pulls away, still looking down at her before taking a deep breath.

“Ask me why I’m overthrowing the government for you, Hermione.”

Licking her lips, she breathes in slowly, attempting to steady her heart, then asks the words, slowly but surely. “Why are you overthrowing the government, overthrowing tradition, overthrowing your father, for me?”

His eyes dart back and forth, taking her in, and then she feels his lower body moving, hovering over hers. She watches as his cock settles against the juncture of her thighs, so close, so close to consummating the bond between them, so close to filling her, to ending their separate lives, tying them together without question.

“Because, Hermione Granger Malfoy, I love you. I have always loved you, and will always love you, my dear and precious little witch. My wife.”

His mouth lowers over hers, keeping her from responding, and it’s a good thing, because for once, Hermione had no response. It’s too much to process, too much to take in. He loves her, had always loved her, would always-

His hand slides down her body, reaching her hip, and he lifts her slightly, just enough so that she can feel him pressing against her entrance. His lips pull away from her kiss just a touch, and he looks down at her, searching her face for an answer.

“Yes,” she whispers, knowing the question.

It’s tight, and she breathes into him sharing air and magic, but he’s pressing deeper and deeper. There’s no pinch of pain, no agony, only a little discomfort as her body grows used to the feeling, but she’s so wet, so on fire, and then his lips are back on hers. All she can taste is his kiss, her brain finally giving in, and she lets herself go.

His mouth presses against hers, tongue slipping between her lips, and all she feels for a moment is his mouth invading hers, sucking out each breath, taking in her very soul. They stay like that, not moving, breathing in one another, and he pulls back after a moment.

Her eyes open to see him, shifting slightly to look down at them locked together, and she can see nothing between the valley of her breasts, but he’s clearly looking at something important, as his eyes go wide, his breath catching. 

“Merlin, can’t believe I’m actually in,” he mutters, and she can’t help but to laugh, his words so endearing - he cuts off that kiss as he dives back in to kiss her again, silencing any other thoughts.

She feels her body emptying slowly, and filled once more. Her hips rock to their own rhythm, seeking more of that fullness, and her hands find hair, long soft strands of blond. She can’t think beyond each thrust, and stops trying to. All she does is feel.

She feels the magic surrounding them, her magic pleased and purring like her familiar. She can feel his magic coating over her skin, going in every dip of her hips, in between her fingers, over her flesh. Goosebumps appear over her body, her flesh on edge from the intensity, and she feels his grip on her tighten, one hand on her hip, the other in her hair. She arches her back in time with his thrust, trying to draw him deeper, and he groans into her kiss.

She wishes she knew more, knew better, knew how to keep him in deep within her for all of eternity, but then he’s tugging her closer at the hip, and she knows what she wants.

It has to be magic, entirely magic, because there’s no other way she would know how to move, or have the strength to move him, but he’s laying back, pulling her with him. Their legs shift, hers going around his waist, and he’s digging his heels into the bed, one hand going behind him to keep himself upright. 

Wrapping her arms tighter around his shoulders, Hermione runs a hand into his hair, fingers gripping almost at the root, and she opens her mouth to his kiss, just sucking in air, sharing it with him. His grip on her hip tightens as he rocks up into her, and then he’s pushing himself up more, finding balance as his free hand runs into her hair, the long strands becoming tangled on his fingers. They both groan as he slides deeper, and it’s a stretch that almost aches in her lower belly, but she doesn’t care about how sore she will be.

Because all she can see is the glow, the glow between them, the glow of their magic. All she knows is his taste, his touch, the way his eyes open and look down at her, how his legs tighten under her arse as he rocks his hips again, the way her feet find their way onto the bed to dig in and keep them balanced.

She knows now what it feels like to be loved, to feel nothing but love and trust. She knows what it feels like to have her husband see nothing but her, crave nothing but her. She knows that, no matter her feelings, he will wait for her feelings to grow. She knows that, no matter what they face in the coming days, they are one.

She knows that she will destroy the Ministry itself if they try to keep them apart.

He swallows another of her moans as he rocks deeper into her, and she feels another scream coming on as he seemingly hits every raw edge of her body. Her nails dig into his scalp, and he tugs his mouth from hers, latching instead onto her throat. Her head falls back as she keeps him close, hand falling to his shoulder to grip and dig her nails in, and she thinks this might be paradise, this feeling of completeness.

It might be the bond, it might be the magic, or it might be just them, but they rock together, unable to stay more than a few inches apart. Her breasts rub against his chest, and he bends down just enough to lick at one, the closeness of their bodies keeping him from going further. She grabs at his hair again, tugging his face up, and she leans her head forward, staring into his eyes.

“Need you, need-”

He kisses her to stop her from saying anything more, though she doesn’t know what else she could possibly say in this moment. She doesn’t love him, not yet, but she knows she can - she wants to. She will. She trusts him, needs him, desires him, craves him - love, what even is it? Love is the inability to live without one another, perhaps, or some absurd concept that is not even real, but where she, Hermione Granger Malfoy, ends, her husband, Draco Lucius Malfoy, begins.

Her head falls back from the kiss as she cries out, her orgasm hitting her out of nowhere, and she cries real tears at the overwhelming pleasure of it, of feeling him pulsing inside of her. It seems to be enough to bring him over the edge as well, because he groans into her throat, cursing at each jerk of his body.

They’re left there, together, breathing so hard that neither can speak. She doesn’t even try to, just cries soft tears as he holds her close, pressing her face into his shoulder.

The tears eventually fade, and he presses a kiss to each eyelid, and then her forehead. His lips do not pull away, though, and he runs his hand into her hair, soothing and calming her.

She thinks she falls asleep, just like that, feeling him softening within her, her body still wrapped up in his arms, and then the next thing she knows is sinking into the heat of a bath, her husband holding her close.

“I’m so tired,” she finally whispers, and she realizes she had never been asleep at all, simply resting, too exhausted to think or sleep or even really have a presence in the moment.

“Our magic is drained,” he murmurs into her hair, and he shifts them so that he’s sitting back against the wall of the tub, her body turned so her head rested on his shoulder, her legs draped over his. “I had to call a Malfoy elf to come and draw a bath and clean our room.”

She wants to protest, or say something, but she’s too tired to do so.

“Our room?” she murmurs against his shoulder, and she tries to relax as she does so, but there’s something in those words… the idea that they might no longer be separated.

“Mmm. I’m having your wardrobe moved to where my desk was, and having the bed in your room removed. We can have the books and desks in the study. I no longer want to be separated from you… if that’s acceptable to you.”

He tenses at those last words, and she smiles, appreciating that he realizes, although a little late, that she may not approve of his plans.

“Mmm, sounds perfect. I don’t think I would be able to walk after a night with you. And besides, the desks and books should all be in one room. It makes sense.”

He chuckles a little, and she feels a cloth sliding over her shoulder. It takes a moment for her to realize what he’s doing, but then it clicks - he’s washing her, washing her body, and massaging her arms and hands. She melts a little deeper into him, but wills herself to stay awake, at least for the moment.

“Mmmm, and next? What happens next?”

He doesn’t stop his movements, running the cloth between her breasts, and then down to her stomach, where he had earlier spilled himself.

“Well, after this, I plan to sleep all night with you wrapped up in my arms. Then, we take the ministry… take our NEWTs… take on the world.”

She can’t help but laugh at how simple he makes it sound, but there’s an easy confidence in him. It appears, at least for the moment, that sex has given him a confidence boost, something far better than even being the proud heir of the Malfoy line.

“Just like that? You’re going to run the world?”

“We,” he says, and he dips down to kiss her forehead. She moves on his lap, shifting so she can sit up and look at him, and he moves to kiss her neck next, a sore spot that she suspects has a few marks on it from his mouth.

“We are going to run the world, my little wife. You are going to take the Malfoy seat on the-”

“What?!” she gasps, sitting up suddenly. Her head feels a little disoriented from the movement, but her eyes are wide from his admission.

He simply laughs, pulling her back against him, and moving the cloth between her legs, gently running it over her inner thighs.

“Or not. Whatever you want, my love, we will achieve, together.”

She tries to process that, the idea that she would take the Malfoy seat, that she would be in control, that they were in this together, that they would run the world, that he- that he loved her.

She relaxes against him, letting her head fall back over his shoulder, and she can feel him tense a little against her arse, but she doesn’t move. As much as Hermione would love to tease him, she thinks she might be too sore to go again, at least on this night.

“First things first… take the Ministry, then come back to me.”

He presses a kiss just above her ear, and then her jaw, before moving back to her neck. He presses open-mouthed kisses there, to the spot where her throat meets her shoulder, and then down over her collar bone.

“Is that an order, Lady Malfoy?” he asks, and she can hear the teasing tone in his words.

She doesn’t respond, letting him finish washing her, until he reaches for her shampoo. She didn’t even realize it was there, likely taken from the shower, and she lets him move her so that she can dip her hair under the water, rising back up so that she can straddle his lap, her forehead pressing to his neck while he slowly works the suds into it.

“Come back to me so I can fall in love with you,” she finally says, and it comes out in a breath, almost rushed. She thinks he may have not heard her, except that his hands pause for a few moments, and then he continues washing her hair. It’s quiet in their bath, and she fears she has upset him, but she’s too afraid to pull back to look and ask.

Finally, when she’s almost asleep in his arms and the fear in her has nearly settled, he pulls back and then shifts her in his arms so that she can lean back, rinsing the soap from her hair. When she rises back up, thanks to his hand on the back of her neck, she realizes that he’s staring right into her eyes, right into her soul.

“I will always come home to you,” Draco says, and it sounds like a vow.

Smiling, Hermione gives a nod and closes her eyes, letting her lips press to husband’s in a long, sweet kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue to be indebted to canttouchthis, who has been beta reading and helping me control my tenses. It's a gargantuan task.
> 
> The final chapter will be out within a few days. It's all plotted out, just need time to write it, but I'll have that time.
> 
> Did you happen to notice a certain ring show up? HUGE shoutout to musyc, who used the tag/ring for the first time in the fic Bring Him to His Knees. If you're not reading it right now, you need to go and read it like NOW. They were so kind as to allow me to use it in my fic, with their approval.
> 
> As always - I'm on [tumblr](http://melanoradrood.tumblr.com). If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to ask! I love responding to comments / asks.


	5. My Dearest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Few Months Later...

Hermione leans back against her husband, smiling as he pulls her hair over one shoulder, exposing her neck to his mouth. Her eyes close as his open mouthed kisses go lower, until he reaches the edge of her shirt, one of his, the only thing she is wearing save for a pair of green lace knickers. They’re one of a few hundred he had purchased for her over the past seven months, although half of them may have been ripped at this point.

“Mmm, you promised me dinner. We can’t keep skipping meals just because you’re insatiable,” she murmurs, gasping as his hand goes around her stomach and dips down to the edge of his shirt, trying to tug it up to expose her belly to him.

“Says the witch that completely disrupted breakfast in bed because she was craving a different kind of meat,” he mutters into her skin, but he releases her all the same, pressing one last kiss to her cheek before he turns away from her to find some pants. 

It’s her one requirement on this honeymoon - if he insisted on allowing house elves to clean and cook for them, then she insisted that they at least have some sort of clothing on, just in case any pop in on them.

Of course, the house elves seem more than aware of the fact that they will have sex on any open surface, given enough time, and had yet to interrupt them. Still, she likes the way his arse looks in black pants, and then they can enjoy undressing each other over dessert.

“I can’t help it if I enjoy my husband,” she says with a smirk, looking over her shoulder to see him digging in a dresser to find a clean pair. “We’re only here for a few more days. Let me enjoy you as much as I can.”

He laughs as he steps into the pants, looking back to his witch as he straightens up, now wearing at least something on his previously nude body.

“Yes, well, it’s not my fault the entire government falls apart without a Malfoy in charge. As soon as the trials begin, it’s going to be impossible for me to see you…”

Her eyes roll as she walks over to him, reaching out to grab his hand and lead him down towards the dining room. “No matter how long the trials take, do not rush them just because you miss me. Every Death Eater must receive a fair trial. No chances of them claiming prejudice or bias. Besides, I’ll be far too busy with my own research.”

She senses the pout on his lips, and as Hermione reaches the bottom of the stairs, the turns to look at him, chin raised. She knows that he is aware that their work is important, but it is rather vexing that they cannot enjoy more of themselves before it begins.

“I know you refuse to sit at home like every other Lady Malfoy, but must it really be the Department of Mysteries? You can do your research at home, in nothing but my clothes, and get the same results.”

She playfully slaps his shoulder at that, not willing to hear anything more. They’ve had this disagreement a few times, but she earned her place as an Unspeakable under a false name and entirely on her own. She will not give that up for anything.

“We can talk about it once I’ve finished my research. You cannot just overturn Marriage Laws meant to tie Muggleborns to Wizarding Families without actually providing the Adoption Charms that they’ve been promised.”

He lets out an annoyed huff, and she knows that it’s because of the demands of the people, not because of the fact that she’s right. Why it was so important that those without Wizarding ancestry to be tied to the great families, they had no idea, but it was a requirement - those that were brought into the Wizarding World at 11 had to be magically adopted, and it had to pass the Blood Tests. 

It was also the primary reason why Hermione had applied for the Department of Mysteries. After all, she found that if she wanted something done right, it was best she do it herself.

Draco leads her into the dining room, and gracefully bows low before her as he pulls out her chair. She rolls her eyes and takes her seat, delicately lifting her napkin and placing it across her lap, as she was taught. She tries to ignore the way that her husband is already eyeing her like he thoroughly plans on eating his dinner off of her body - they have to make it to at least dessert. Her lower half needs a small break before they go again.

The food magically appears at their setting, and they begin to eat.

“Oh, I received an owl from Pansy while you were-”

“I thought we agreed, no owls!” Draco complains, dropping his silverware onto his plate.

“No, I said no owls regarding work. This was all pleasure. It was a wedding invitation.”

That perks Draco right up, a grin spreading over his lips. “So, he finally did it? Neville collected the ring from his vault before we even left London back around Christmas.”

Hermione is the one to gasp at that, and then she laughs. “I can’t believe you knew and didn’t tell me! Well, she’s absolutely delighted, and says we simply must attend. They’re planning it for after the new year, so that we’re out of session. I think her sister will be taking up the Parkinson Seat after she graduates next July.”

Draco gives a nod, lifting his wine glass and taking a sip, humming at the taste. “Remind me to send them a case of wine in celebration.”

They eat in silence, until dessert is set before them, and the wicked look in his eye quickly draws Hermione to sit in his lap, straddling the chair as she slowly feeds him berries. His white dress shirt is soon forgotten on the floor beside the table, and her breasts are covered in juices from the berries, but she can’t find a care in the world, loving the way he touches and kisses her.

She loves this, loves them, loves the way they took on the world, loves the fact that he acted for her, that he made a change, changed the world for the better, all for love of her.

There’s no gift she can give him to ever thank him for choosing her, for risking everything, but there’s something that she has been dying to say for some time. He has not mentioned it ever since he first said it, but she thinks that now… now might be the time.

He lifts her up to the edge of the table, his mouth going lower, and she pauses him with a single touch under his chin, lifting his gaze up to her. She takes in a deep breath and smiles as he stands, thinking that perhaps she does not want his mouth but instead, something else.

Shaking her head, she simply wraps her legs around his waist, keeping him from removing either of their undergarments, and pulls him close so she can kiss him.

It’s soft, the way her lips touch his, and when they pull away, their foreheads press together, breathing in one another. She looks towards their hands, fingers interlocked beside them, as though in a dance, and she smiles at the magic glowing around them, something special from their bond that only they can see.

“I love you,” she says, and she turns to look up at him again. “I love you, Draco Malfoy, my husband, my dearest.”

He grins back down at her, the smile on his lips perfect as he takes her in, a few nods coming from him before he suddenly laughs.

“Yeah?” he asks, and she can’t help but to giggle.

“Yeah.”

He laughs again and picks her up from the table, wrapping her legs tighter around his waist as he turns them in a spin. She laughs with him, holding on tight until he stops moving, instead walking to press them against a wall.

He kisses her hard, and she relishes in it, letting him take control, her fingers finding their way back into his hair. She loves him, loves this, loves that no matter what, they’re in this together.

Loves that he chose her, and that no matter what comes their way,

She will always choose him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it! A quick wrapup. I never wanted this to be a grand epic, because I currently do not have the time, but I hope this answered any and all questions that you had!
> 
> A huge thank you to anyone that has read and commented on this fic. Trust me, I am checking every time there's a new kudos or bookmark - I love that people have enjoyed this. A big thank you to CarrieMaxwell, who commented on every chapter as soon as it was up, and helped through their questions to expand this fic a little bit. It might have only been one, maybe two chapters, if not for their comments. And as always, a shout out to canttouchthis for beta reading.
> 
> My next work in progress is a oneshot that will be probably between 7-10k words, based on 8th year. It's NOT a crack fic, but I will say it's more relaxed and less angst than a lot of my normal readers are probably used to. I also have four other Dramione fics that are on the back burner in google docs that will be getting love.
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://melanoradrood.tumblr.com/) where I post little sneak peaks, answer questions, and share what I'm reading. See you in the next fic!


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